Got Glue?

My phone rings on Saturday and it's my work partner Chris.

....."Have you got any superglue?" he asks casually just as if we were in my office at work.
....."Yeah, couple tubes. Why?"
....."Good, I'll be right over then. Show you when I get there."

This does not surprise me, nothing really does anymore. I idly wonder why Chris doesn't just stop and pick up some glue of his own. Ten minutes later I found out why.Chris arrives and he does not knock on the door, but kicks on it instead. When I open up the door he shoulders past me and goes into the kitchen without even so much as a hello. Frowning I close the door and follow him into the kitchen where I find him at the sink. Curiously I peer over his shoulder.

....."What did you do?" I ask when I see his hand. Chris has managed to slice open the palm of his hand, that nice big pad of muscle right below the thumb. He did a good job of it too, its about an inch wide but looks to have missed the tendons. I reach down to get gloves from beneath the sink.

....."Shell is with her ladies group at church, so I'm in charge of supper tonight." This makes me giggle as I glove up. Even though I know that Chris is actually pretty good in the kitchen, visions of Homer Simpson come to mind. He goes on to relate how he was cutting some meat, slipped the knife, and wound up carving himself.

....."Why didn't you just go to ER? You need stiches..."....."And have them charge me a couple hundred bucks? You'll do the same thing they will. We can glue it and it'll be fine. Besides I don't need the drama. The girls (his daughters) would have a screaming fit if they saw this. Told them I was going to the store and sent them next door to the neighbors."

When you are a medic you get use to things like this whether you like it or not. Once folks know you they call with questions, or knock on your door. My kid fell can you come take a look? The worst of it is the middle of the night door poundings when there are emergencies, more then once I have been summonsed like this and have run out wearing my pajamas. I keep a pair of jeans in my front hall closet just for situations such as these.

So I drag out my things and put Chris back together again. I kid around a bit and tell him that he's lucky I had glue, otherwise I would have had to resort to bailing twine and plumbers tape. Finishing up I think I have done a pretty good job of it, a work of art! Such a good job I offer to sign it, but he says no. I remind him that unsigned masterpieces are worth a lot less which makes him laugh.

Armed with hydrogen peroxide, a bowl of cold water, and a container of Anti-Bacterial wipes, we set out to clean up the trail of blood he had left behind. Blood on the wall, the handrail up the steps, a drop or two on the carpet. (I am sure my neighbors loved that!) Then we cleaned up the minivan. Looked like he had touched just about everything in sight on the short trip over here.

Chris left about twenty minutes after he had arrived. Glad that he trusts me enough to put him back together when he decides to mutilate himself. Next time though if he calls and asks if I have SuperGlue, I might just say NO!