I do not believe in fate, serendipity, kismet, or what have you--well, not really anyways-- but when something so statistically unlikely happens (trust me, I did the math: There are approximately 1.5 million fractures/breaks a year as of Feb. 2011, which works out to be 4,110 fractures/breaks a day, and according to the U.S.'s population [313,446,190 people], that would make a person in the United States' chance of breaking a bone each day only 0.0013%), it does stop me in my tracks a bit. Two bone breaks in one family in one night, while each of them their own statistical event, is... odd. It's a weird coincidence; it certainly makes us take notice, and perhaps makes my mom consider purchasing bubble-wrap in bulk.
Last night my two youngest siblings spent time in the ER for bone breaks: Clay for a broken elbow sustained during Track practice (those damn hurtles), and Court for a broken finger, which was sustained while slamming her car door (very, very painful. Never discount a broken finger!). They each attended a different ER one right after the other.
After work last night, I spent the evening--and into the morning-- at the ER with my sister (I was at work during my brother's ordeal and could only offer him moral support from afar). Despite near-faintings during the resetting of her finger on the part of her and her Boyfriend, the night was spent full of laughs. Jokes about "we should get a two-for-one special" and bubble wrap for the remaining siblings were tossed around.
My family's opinion of my mental status was made quite clear when I alerted them to the dog I saw in the ER. The four of us were sitting in Courtney's curtained area of the ER, she and my mother on her bed, her Boyfriend and I on the chairs next to it, when I happened to look into the hallway and see a brown, small, poodley-looking dog nip out of another room and back in again, to which I stated, "There's a dog in the ER," quite calmly. Naturally, they craned their necks to see what I saw. I said, "well you can't see it." The "now" was implied... but not grasped by them. When they didn't see the dog that was no longer in the hallway, the three of them turned and looked at me with laughter in their eyes and expressions of you-must-be-crazy on their faces. Naturally, again, I explained myself, "it was in the hall, but it went back into the person's room." Upon my explanation, the laughter left their eyes and exited in verbal form. They were laughing at me without reservation.
"Sure, Tina," Courtney placated between giggles. It was nice to see most of the tension of the evening leave her face.
"They don't allow dogs in ERs," my mother corrected, still laughing. Connor, Courtney's boyfriend, said nothing and just continued laughing.
"Really! I swear! It was there, just go look into that person's room!" I defended, but to no avail.
"They're going to check me out of the ER and check you into the psych ward!" Courtney teased. Thus began the running joke of the rest of the evening. I, however, was the one to have the last laugh. As the ER doctor attending Courtney was about to leave us to sign the discharge papers, I told her about what I saw, garnering anticipatory looks from my family waiting for the doctor to call me crazy when I was proven wrong. Being curious in nature, the doctor went to look for herself and sure enough erupted in laughter when she did indeed see the dog in the room down the hall. My family's shocked and still laughing faces, along with the doctor's support, was vindicating for all of those "crazy" and "psych ward" remarks I had been getting all evening.
When my family goes to the ER, we do it right. Sometimes, we even have a good time ;o).
Cheers!
