men and boys - part 2

Everything I know about men I've learned from my boys.Every time Surfer Dude hurts himself it takes an entire box of band-aids to make it better. No matter how small the scratch, he has to completely cover it with layer upon layer of bandages. This, of course, makes anyone who sees it ask what happened, and he then launches into a story that (truly) bears very little relation to what actually happened. It's not that he lies - it's just that he has to put a little spin on the actual facts to make a better story. (Wonder where he gets that from?) And then, as the final badge of honor, he has a big ol' pile of band-aids to show off when he's all healed.


I had a patient who took a header off of a construction ladder and fell about fifteen feet. It was his lucky day, however, and his only injury was from a piece of splintered wood that he encountered somehow on his way down. This mega-splinter a) fortunately missed his eye entirely, but b) went completely through his eyebrow - in exactly the way it would have with a (planned) piercing.


He stoically laid there while we pulled out the "splinter", and raised his eyebrows (lopsidedly) when he saw the size of it. It was about three inches long and about half an inch across, so it was certainly worth gawking over, especially since it had been lodged about two inches from his eyeball. He asked if he could use his cell phone, but one of the docs was on the way in to suture him up, so I told him to wait a bit. He wasn't happy about it, but he did.


As soon as his stitches were in, he was on the phone, and just like the fish that got away, that bloody splinter got bigger every time he told the story. And closer to his eye, too. He dialed constantly the whole time I was cleaning and dressing the area. By the time I was discharging him, it had almost acquired 2x4 status and was mere millimeters from his eye.


As he stood up, I saw him gaze wistfully at the dirty suture tray that still had the splinter sitting in it. And because I recognized that look in his eye, I asked him if he wanted it. As a souvenir. He brightened up immediately, so I grabbed a urine specimen cup to put it in. I asked if he wanted the blood and hair washed off, knowing full well the answer would be no. And it was.


He walked to the waiting room with a big grin on his face, clutching his specimen cup proudly. I'm sure it made the full rounds at the construction site the next day.


At least that would be my guess. Not that I have any experience with this type of thing.
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The Thursday Three sabbatical continues...