Nurse Nancy
18/02/17 08:21
A scream laced with profanity came out of nowhere just as I was lying down for the night and just after Nancy had arrived home from her long commute into Boston. She was standing just feet away from me in the bedroom and seemingly so numbingly tired that she was stumbling while kicking off her shoes and taking off her clothes when we heard Evan's voice calling out to us. Before we had a chance to respond to his voice he came rushing into our bedroom with blood spurting everywhere from his hand or wrist area while mumbling unintelligibly. It was a plea for help; a painful and horrifying admission that he wasn't fully comprehending what had just happened to him. I don't know why but I wasn't convinced at that very moment that his injury wasn't self inflicted. I just wasn't understanding how he could otherwise sustain such a serious injury in an otherwise happenstance fashion. I could hear water running in the sink in the bathroom. Presumably, whatever occurred in the bathroom occurred while Evan was standing at the sink. My mind was focused on two things as I stood there with him: I wanted to stop the bleeding by applying pressure to the affected area and I needed verbal and visual assurance that Nancy was on the phone to call for help. I had instructed Nancy in no uncertain terms to call 911 but things were happening so fast that I needed to see or hear for myself that she was doing precisely that. The trail of blood leading into our bedroom and now covering certain sections of the carpet was frighteningly deep red and arterial in appearance. It wasn't looking good.
I walked Evan out of our room and into the kitchen while still applying pressure to his wrist area. What I didn't know but soon ascertained was that he had gone to turn off the water after washing his hands in the sink and the porcelain handle had broken into two pieces exposing a very sharp edge. The piece of the porcelain handle remaining attached to the sink drove into the palm of his hand cutting into his flesh missing tendons in its path but severing minor arteries along the way. After walking him around in the kitchen for a moment or two he started to complain about feeling dizzy so we did a slow walk to the kitchen table where he dropped into the kitchen chair. I could hear the water still running in the kitchen sink and I had visions of it overflowing and flooding in the area and wanted to attend to it but could not since Nancy was still on the phone with the 911 folks. Or, was she? NANCY! NANCY! I'm standing over my son holding his hand above his head while water is gushing god only knows where in the bathroom and I'm calling out to my wife but getting no response. Has she fallen off the face of the earth? Is the ambulance coming? Where the bejesus is she? Before I had the chance to give that much more thought I saw lights coming down the street so help was on the way. Thank the baby Jesus.
I'm only guessing but I think Nancy's hysterical call to 911 gave the responders pause to consider that what they were walking into might be more than a simple accident. Every 911 call is a potential crime scene and this 911 call was no different. I had visions of Nancy curled up in a fetal position in the snow drift behind the house still holding the phone in her hand hoping against hope that what she thought was happening wasn't actually happening. Her inclination in such situations is somewhat predictable and to say that she becomes fragile and distant is an understatement. I think sometimes about the comment she has made in the past about going into nursing like her mother before her but connecting the dots on that reality knowing what I know about how she responds to such things is really difficult. It's possible that her hysteria was made even worse having endured a hellish commute after a long hard day at work. My role as a potential culprit in the scheme of things was quite possibly in question but if I came across as anything more than a well reasoned adult and caring father it was in the dark recesses of the minds of those observers standing in the shadows. Is it at all beyond the realm of possibility that they thought Evan had gone to great lengths to protect his mother from his father and had been injured in the process? No such conclusions were reached and rightly so.
There is no question that the police accompanying the first responders were doing their best to make sense of it all and Nancy's emotional unraveling sent them down rabbit holes that just didn't exist. Our individual accounts of what transpired were no doubt in synch and it was no surprise to me that before they had the chance to put it all together that they may have thought it was a suicide attempt. "Were there any disagreements", they inquired. "Can you tell us what happened?" "Show us where this happened if you don't mind." One of the officers said to me, "I'm not familiar with your name." I responded, "That's a good thing." "Right?" They even took a picture of the area around the sink where the accident occurred. A little levity wasn't a bad thing and it was good to be acquitted of something, anything. In the midst of it all, there was Evan. He was holding his own and complying as best he could with the instructions given to him by the first responders. He was not otherwise hysterical or upset and did not give the impression one way or the other that he was depressed, despondent, or at odds with his family or his environment. His affect may have seemed particularly odd to the first responders in that his demeanor in such situations is predictably, for those of us who know him anyway, always calm and composed. Eerily so, some might say. As a child, he would look on with interest when getting shots or giving blood. Not the normal reaction by any stretch so it gives one pause when seeing it for the first time. Is he in shock? No. A bit weary given the late hour and unhappy with his particular circumstance but neither alarmed or apoplectic.
He went off in the ambulance and we followed shortly thereafter. Having received a few stitches he was summarily released and we returned hime to pick up where we left off. Nancy kicked off her shoes once again, I did the same, and Evan closed his bedroom door behind him for the night. That's all she wrote, folks. Nothing to see here. Move along.
I walked Evan out of our room and into the kitchen while still applying pressure to his wrist area. What I didn't know but soon ascertained was that he had gone to turn off the water after washing his hands in the sink and the porcelain handle had broken into two pieces exposing a very sharp edge. The piece of the porcelain handle remaining attached to the sink drove into the palm of his hand cutting into his flesh missing tendons in its path but severing minor arteries along the way. After walking him around in the kitchen for a moment or two he started to complain about feeling dizzy so we did a slow walk to the kitchen table where he dropped into the kitchen chair. I could hear the water still running in the kitchen sink and I had visions of it overflowing and flooding in the area and wanted to attend to it but could not since Nancy was still on the phone with the 911 folks. Or, was she? NANCY! NANCY! I'm standing over my son holding his hand above his head while water is gushing god only knows where in the bathroom and I'm calling out to my wife but getting no response. Has she fallen off the face of the earth? Is the ambulance coming? Where the bejesus is she? Before I had the chance to give that much more thought I saw lights coming down the street so help was on the way. Thank the baby Jesus.
I'm only guessing but I think Nancy's hysterical call to 911 gave the responders pause to consider that what they were walking into might be more than a simple accident. Every 911 call is a potential crime scene and this 911 call was no different. I had visions of Nancy curled up in a fetal position in the snow drift behind the house still holding the phone in her hand hoping against hope that what she thought was happening wasn't actually happening. Her inclination in such situations is somewhat predictable and to say that she becomes fragile and distant is an understatement. I think sometimes about the comment she has made in the past about going into nursing like her mother before her but connecting the dots on that reality knowing what I know about how she responds to such things is really difficult. It's possible that her hysteria was made even worse having endured a hellish commute after a long hard day at work. My role as a potential culprit in the scheme of things was quite possibly in question but if I came across as anything more than a well reasoned adult and caring father it was in the dark recesses of the minds of those observers standing in the shadows. Is it at all beyond the realm of possibility that they thought Evan had gone to great lengths to protect his mother from his father and had been injured in the process? No such conclusions were reached and rightly so.
There is no question that the police accompanying the first responders were doing their best to make sense of it all and Nancy's emotional unraveling sent them down rabbit holes that just didn't exist. Our individual accounts of what transpired were no doubt in synch and it was no surprise to me that before they had the chance to put it all together that they may have thought it was a suicide attempt. "Were there any disagreements", they inquired. "Can you tell us what happened?" "Show us where this happened if you don't mind." One of the officers said to me, "I'm not familiar with your name." I responded, "That's a good thing." "Right?" They even took a picture of the area around the sink where the accident occurred. A little levity wasn't a bad thing and it was good to be acquitted of something, anything. In the midst of it all, there was Evan. He was holding his own and complying as best he could with the instructions given to him by the first responders. He was not otherwise hysterical or upset and did not give the impression one way or the other that he was depressed, despondent, or at odds with his family or his environment. His affect may have seemed particularly odd to the first responders in that his demeanor in such situations is predictably, for those of us who know him anyway, always calm and composed. Eerily so, some might say. As a child, he would look on with interest when getting shots or giving blood. Not the normal reaction by any stretch so it gives one pause when seeing it for the first time. Is he in shock? No. A bit weary given the late hour and unhappy with his particular circumstance but neither alarmed or apoplectic.
He went off in the ambulance and we followed shortly thereafter. Having received a few stitches he was summarily released and we returned hime to pick up where we left off. Nancy kicked off her shoes once again, I did the same, and Evan closed his bedroom door behind him for the night. That's all she wrote, folks. Nothing to see here. Move along.