Tuesday, November 2, 2010
June stuck her head out of the tent when the whistling was abruptly cut off to be replaced by a muffled curse. Richard was carefully extracting the knife from where it protruded from his outraged backside.
“What happened?” she demanded, hurrying over to assess the damage.
“I lost my balance,” he muttered. “I guess I fell on it.”
I suppose if you are going to stab yourself with a filleting knife, the gluteus maximus is not a bad place to do it. Nothing vital lurking under the surface. There wasn’t even much blood. The knife had gone straight in so the wound was small but deep. They cleaned and bandaged it as best they could and decided they would be wise to head to the nearest emergency room. The combination of a dirty knife and minimal first aid made infection a near certainty. Of course, getting to a hospital was not a simple matter when you were camping in a remote site and your car was hours away by canoe.
With no other choice the camp was dismantled and packed in record time. Richard hobbled around trying to help and eventually they were loaded and launched. He paddled the whole way back perched precariously on one cheek. By the time they reached the car and ultimately the hospital his entire leg had stiffened up and he thought he would give up sitting for good.
The emergency room was crowded when they arrived and he limped to the desk to register. The triage nurse began her assessment with a question or two about his presenting problem. He glanced over his shoulder at the assorted people filling the chairs in the waiting room and leaned in to speak in a low undertone that couldn’t be overheard.
“Excuse me, I didn’t catch what you said,” she offered with an apologetic smile.
He looked around once more, raised a hand to partially cover his mouth and increased his volume just a notch in an attempt to explain without broadcasting his problem to the entire room.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I stabbed myself in the butt with a filleting knife!” he blurted, huffing in exasperation.
So much for discretion. Ah well, let them laugh. It was an altogether perfect ending to their aborted weekend. He supposed he deserved it.