you guys, really.
I am far too wiped to type this up again, so it's getting c&ped from the email I sent to causeways.
Here was the excitement at my house this evening. I come home from work, and my mom is laid up on the couch not feeling particularly well. This is pertinent to the story later. She goes into the bedroom to lie down, is too queasy to eat, etc. My dad and I order out for dinner, eat, and then he goes down to shut the chickens up for the night. My mom, feeling guilty or just feeling better in general, follows him about ten minutes later. About one minute after she leaves the house, she comes running back in the house, yelling for me to grab my phone, dad has fallen, she doesn't know what's wrong, hang on, she doesn't know if I need to call 911 yet. So we go back outside to go down to my dad (me with phone in hand) and my dad is stumbling into the yard, gushing blood everywhere, and saying "help, help" in this really pretty awful voice. I don't even know what has happened at this point, I just get on the phone with 911 immediately, and have to go down to the gate to let them in. When I come back up, I find out from the nice EMS lady that my dad was chasing a duck and fell into the fence face first, and that at least one of the cuts on his face is deep enough that you can see bone. (Keeping in mind that the face is pretty shallow, as flesh goes.) So they take him off while my mom and I run around finding her purse and calling my siblings. We finally find her purse (in her truck, natch) and she goes off, while the lady that has rented the roadhouse from us comes up to find out what all the flashing lights are about. She goes down with me to finish what my dad started (getting all the chickens and ducks up) and we spend fifteen minutes chasing one duck all over the entirety of our lower property. Seriously. Like this duck (possibly the one my dad was chasing at the time of injury) has no sense of gravitas or injury, just freedom. We finally run it down with the net and get it inside, and at the point we probably owe J a cake or something, because she is a hoss with the net. I held the flash light. Now I'm sitting on my computer, waiting to hear from my parents. He's going to be just fine, he's just going to need stitches and possibly pain medication tonight. Idk if they're going to want to keep him. I'll let you know more as the story unfolds.
Update: just got off the phone with my mom. They are actually going to have to have a plastic surgeon work on him for at least several hours, because the damage to his face was grotesquely extensive. Trust me, you do not want the description my mother just gave me. They won't be home from the hospital until tomorrow morning at the earliest. It's the entire right side of his face, and he'll probably have permanent scarring on his lip and chin. So crazy pants, Kelly.
And this is what I'm adding right now: it wasn't actually a fence he fell into, it was a gate, made of slightly sterner and pokier stuff than the fencing we have around the hatchery. He was already making jokes with people in the emergency room about the whole thing last night (and, hilariously, about what an asshole he can be about the difference between nauseous and nauseated) so I think he's fine and in good spirits about the whole thing. It's his birthday today, he's turning 60. He's been pretty vocal about his dislike for this particular birthday (and also about how unlikely it apparently was that he'd make it this far) and the joke was made last night (she can claim it if she wants) that next year he should try not to be such a drama queen about his dislike of growing older. They haven't come home yet, but I've talked to my mom a couple of times this morning, and purchased some slim fast (it apparently hurts to chew) and he should be home soonish.
Here was the excitement at my house this evening. I come home from work, and my mom is laid up on the couch not feeling particularly well. This is pertinent to the story later. She goes into the bedroom to lie down, is too queasy to eat, etc. My dad and I order out for dinner, eat, and then he goes down to shut the chickens up for the night. My mom, feeling guilty or just feeling better in general, follows him about ten minutes later. About one minute after she leaves the house, she comes running back in the house, yelling for me to grab my phone, dad has fallen, she doesn't know what's wrong, hang on, she doesn't know if I need to call 911 yet. So we go back outside to go down to my dad (me with phone in hand) and my dad is stumbling into the yard, gushing blood everywhere, and saying "help, help" in this really pretty awful voice. I don't even know what has happened at this point, I just get on the phone with 911 immediately, and have to go down to the gate to let them in. When I come back up, I find out from the nice EMS lady that my dad was chasing a duck and fell into the fence face first, and that at least one of the cuts on his face is deep enough that you can see bone. (Keeping in mind that the face is pretty shallow, as flesh goes.) So they take him off while my mom and I run around finding her purse and calling my siblings. We finally find her purse (in her truck, natch) and she goes off, while the lady that has rented the roadhouse from us comes up to find out what all the flashing lights are about. She goes down with me to finish what my dad started (getting all the chickens and ducks up) and we spend fifteen minutes chasing one duck all over the entirety of our lower property. Seriously. Like this duck (possibly the one my dad was chasing at the time of injury) has no sense of gravitas or injury, just freedom. We finally run it down with the net and get it inside, and at the point we probably owe J a cake or something, because she is a hoss with the net. I held the flash light. Now I'm sitting on my computer, waiting to hear from my parents. He's going to be just fine, he's just going to need stitches and possibly pain medication tonight. Idk if they're going to want to keep him. I'll let you know more as the story unfolds.
Update: just got off the phone with my mom. They are actually going to have to have a plastic surgeon work on him for at least several hours, because the damage to his face was grotesquely extensive. Trust me, you do not want the description my mother just gave me. They won't be home from the hospital until tomorrow morning at the earliest. It's the entire right side of his face, and he'll probably have permanent scarring on his lip and chin. So crazy pants, Kelly.
And this is what I'm adding right now: it wasn't actually a fence he fell into, it was a gate, made of slightly sterner and pokier stuff than the fencing we have around the hatchery. He was already making jokes with people in the emergency room about the whole thing last night (and, hilariously, about what an asshole he can be about the difference between nauseous and nauseated) so I think he's fine and in good spirits about the whole thing. It's his birthday today, he's turning 60. He's been pretty vocal about his dislike for this particular birthday (and also about how unlikely it apparently was that he'd make it this far) and the joke was made last night (she can claim it if she wants) that next year he should try not to be such a drama queen about his dislike of growing older. They haven't come home yet, but I've talked to my mom a couple of times this morning, and purchased some slim fast (it apparently hurts to chew) and he should be home soonish.