stitches, Smash Burger, & soccer

On Saturday Bob and I woke up at 9:30am. My parents had been in town and left that morning. I had nothing scheduled except for a soccer game that night. So we grabbed our old-school laptop (that Bob's dad gave us after mine crashed last semester) and got online to watch an episode of Castle. Then we watched another one. And another, and another... and then we finished season one before I knew it.

At 7:00 I went to pick up a surprise visitor for Jennie Ray. Our cousin, Katelyn, came to visit for her spring break. I stopped at her sister's house to get her, and when we got back to our place Bob was doing the dishes. He got all excited or something, because suddenly he made an odd sound and said, "Uhh Janae....? Janae?!" I was standing five feet from him and looked over to see him holding his hand under the stream of water from the faucet and a big kitchen knife in the other hand.

"Did you just cut yourself?" I asked.
"Uh huh," he responded, in a worried voice.
"Bad?"
"I'm not sure."

I walked over to the sink and looked. There was a pretty good amount of blood draining, though I didn't see the cut very well. I got him a paper towel and he wrapped it up, then went to the kitchen table to look at it. I got some super glue, Q-tips and cotton balls so that he could bandage himself up.

"Is it deep?" I asked. "Do you think it's bad enough to go get it checked out?"
Bob got up from the table and as he walked into the living room said, "Maybe I shou... Uh oh... ohhh..." And proceeded to half sit/half lay on the couch as his lips turned white and his face turned greenish.
"Bob?" I turned around to see him pass out. I got him some water and rubbed my cold hands down his face, talking to him until he came to.

I apologized to Katelyn and told her Jennie should be home from work by 7, then left her by herself at our apartment. I drove Bob to the Instacare facility a few miles away. It was cold and snowing, after it had been gorgeous weather all week. We arrived and checked in, and as we were waiting in a room to get Bob evaluated by a nurse he started looking pale again. After getting him a glass of water and he slowly got color back. The nurse decided that he did need stitches, so we went to another room to get it all taken care of.

We sat waiting, and playing with a fun doctor's chair for a few minutes. Then the same nurse came in to get things started. She got out a syringe and some stuff that would numb the cut, and I watched as she poked and injected until the cut and most of his finger was all numb. I hadn't really looked at it until then. It was right on his second knuckle, and was bigger in surface area than it was deep, but it still went in pretty far. I thought it was kind of fascinating and gross at the same time as I watched.

The nurse finished and started to clean up the blood and bandages.
Then it hit me.
A wave of nausea, light headed dizziness, and static started in my ears.
"Oh I gotta sit down..." I mumbled as I stumbled over and collapsed into a chair by the door.
I think Bob said something, but I couldn't hear him.
I remember quietly saying, "This is lame."
And then I blacked out.

I could hear what was going on around me, but it seemed like slow motion and I couldn't move, or didn't want to move. When I finally came to a little more, I felt a cool wet washcloth that the nurse had put across my neck and the doctor was in there already stitching up Bob. I had a glass of water in my hand that I vaguely remember the nurse handing me. It felt like I had been passed out for a while, although it was probably just a few minutes.

So apparently I'm a pansy. This does not bode well for motherhood in my future. I think I'll try to grow and man-up a little more before I start trying to have kids. As I was sitting there thinking that, Bob told me that I was kind of cute, laying in the chair and pale and sick-looking. Then he corrected himself and said I was cute because I'm me.
Oh, how flattering.
Thanks Bob.

We went out and got dinner afterward. Smash Burger. It was delicious.
Then we had a soccer game at 11:25 that night. Late, I know. But it's indoor, so it doesn't really matter. We lost, 8-4.

New team = we don't play together well yet = I got frustrated.

But it was Bob's first time playing soccer, and I think he did really well. Things should get better. Besides, Bob and I can go kick a soccer ball around during the week together and it'll count for something for both of us now.