Thomas decided yesterday that our lives have been too dull as of late. So, he decided to liven things up a bit by swallowing a toothpick from a sandwich (it was a club sandwich, he thought it was a particularly tough piece of bacon.) So I get a text from him, "T is taking me to the ER. Swallowed toothpick. Will call when I can." Very matter-of-fact, right? Nothing to worry about, right? Right.
One of his student workers picked me up and we headed to meet him at the ER. He'd had x-rays by the time I got there, and was looking miserable and sheepish at the same time. We were told he would have to be knocked out and have minor surgery to remove the damn thing, and that would be about another four hours from then. So I ran home, fed the pooches, grabbed the laptop and a book, and headed back to the hospital. (Did I mention it was POURING rain the whole time? Yeah.)
We settled in to wait; then, they needed the room, so poor Thomas was moved into the hall to wait some more. Yay. All this time, he can barely swallow, can't eat or drink, and can't talk. Miserable. We finally got to talk to the doc, and at about 6:00 (we'd been there since 12:30) he went in for "surgery". Came out about an hour later with about a 2" piece of toothpick as a souvenir (gag.) Home by 8:30 or so.
This makes the third time in eleven years of marriage that we have been to the ER for him. Once when he hurt his back, once when he had a really bad allergic reaction to medication, and yesterday. None of them have been great days for either of us; it ain't easy seeing the person you love the most all hooked up to wires and IVs and on a backboard (for his back injury), or struggling to breathe (allergic reaction.) I am profoundly grateful that we have survived all these adventures, because any one of them could have been much worse. But I told him this was the third strike, so he was going to have to find someone else to entertain him next time. Yeah.
(And I am also aware of the irony of yesterday's post about insurance; again, I realize how lucky we are to have it. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?)