Top that

Ever notice when you get injured, everyone has their own bloody tale of woe?  

Three men shared the circumstances surrounding their demise with St. Peter as they passed through the Pearly Gates.  “Ya, know,” said the first, “I thought my wife was having an affair so I sneaked home in the middle of the day, and surprisingly she was alone.  As I’m leaving, I notice hands gripping my balcony ledge.  I live on the 13^th floor.  It had to be him!  I grabbed a hammer from the drawer and pounded the hands until the adulterer fell to the ground.  Only he falls into the bushes below and survives.  I can’t believe it.  I’m so livid, I slide behind my refrigerator and push it to the edge of the balcony and shove it over.  With all the stress, I grabbed my chest and had a massive heart attack.” 

St. Peter sighs as Heaven’s newest member strolls down the golden path.

The next fellow says, “There I was doing a few calisthenics on my balcony up on the 14^th floor.  I accidentally flipped over my railing.  But I’m so lucky, I grabbed hold of the balcony below.  Then all of a sudden, for no reason, some guy is bludgeoning my knuckles with a hammer.  My hold gives way and I plummet to earth, but again I’m saved.  I fall in bushes.  Then I look up and see this refrigerator.”

Again St. Peter sighs and ushers the man in.

“Welcome,” St. Peter says to the third man.  “How’d you end up here?”

“Well,” he answered, “there I was naked in a refrigerator.”

Is it human nature to top one another with tales of spine-chilling injuries?  It’s like bragging parents.  “Mine walked at three months.”  (That was Grandpa’s recollection about Aunt Soozie.)  “My little boy was potty trained at twelve months.”  “Well, my little girl sang in the womb.”  Now if you are Mrs. Evancho, mother of the ten-year-old opera sensation, that is probably true.

Since nearly severing my finger (notice how it’s gone from cut to amputation in just a matter of days?), I’ve heard many stories that make me squirm and fidget.  Linda ran an ice pick through her palm, the GAP attached a plank of wood by means of the exposed nail to the bottom of her foot, my other daughter Coco fell out of a swing and landed on her chin.  Literally, you could see daylight through her tongue, once the torrential flow of blood slowed down.

When you are injured, you are at the mercy of those around you.  It took my husband fifteen minutes to fasten my bra.  My friend’s unlucky but rather mild-mannered husband, after mistakenly choosing to carry a fry plan of flaming oil to the sink resulting in third degree burns on his hands. went missing.  “Brian,” my friend had asked her young son, “where’s your dad?” 

“Last time I saw him you were putting him in the tub.”

She ran upstairs, finding him shivering in a tub of icy water.  “Why didn’t you hollar?”

“I knew sooner or later you’d remember me.”

My dad hooked the hose to the sanitary tub in the garage, sat my mom on a portable toilet outside and hosed her down after she broke her hip and couldn’t get in or out of the shower.

My injury, demoted to a mere cut, after I was one upped by my sister, Holly.  Seems her youngest daughter was playing “tall bike josting.”  A new sport involving boxing gloves, a mop stick, and needless to say a “tall bike,” not destined for the Olympics any time soon.  My niece slipped from the bike and racked herself.  Ouch!  If that doesn’t make you squirm nothing will.

Regardless, I’m gonna milk my near-severed appendage for all it’s worth.  No more washing dirty dishes for me.