Last night Jared and I took Savvy for a walk. Whenever we approach our apartment at the end of a walk, I let go of Savvy's leash and we race to the door. She does amazingly well off leash—she never tries to run away and if she starts to wander we can always call her back and she'll come—so it's fun to let her go so she can run off her last bits of energy. But last night as we were racing, she ran in front of me and I tripped going full speed. Both knees and one hand hit the cement hard.
I'm so glad Jared was there because I have no idea what I would have done if I was alone. I tore a huge hole in my jeans and my knee was bleeding profusely. The adrenaline had me thinking I was going to just shake it off and be fine, but after Jared looked at the bleeding wound on my knee he insisted he carry me inside. When he put me on the couch and said, "Whatever you do, don't look at it," I knew it was bad. Within a minute both knees were pulsing with the worst pain they've ever caused. I'm glad I had the foresight to know that it would only get worse and have Jared bring me some ibuprofen immediately. I'm usually a pretty tough cookie, but this hurt SO BAD that I was seriously sobbing. My right hand was bleeding and in lots of pain and I couldn't bend either knee, so basically I had only one hand to pull a dress on while Jared helped me out of my jeans so he could clean the wound and take me to the Urgent Care. He was fascinated and kept saying things like, "That is DEEP. You're going to need lots of stitches," and, "My mom just sent me a suture kit! Maybe I can practice on you," and, "I think I can see the muscle down there. Maybe it's just tendon?" I was like, "YOU'RE NOT HELPING AND I'M GOING TO FAINT NOW."
I heart my med-student husband.
Jared had to carry me back out to the car because I couldn't put an ounce of weight on my knees without screaming. Our one friend we've made in our apartment complex was outside with her dog when Jared rushed past her carrying me. She asked if everything was ok, and of course I'm totally just laugh-crying at this point while I'm trying to keep my dress from sliding up above my underwear and I'm like, "Oh yeah it's fine everything's normal!" I get weird in panicky situations.
Once we got to the urgent care, I had to wait in the car and try not to scream while Jared found me a wheelchair. A nice nurse wheeled me in while Jared was locking up the car. She was like, "Is that your brother or your boyfriend?" I said, "Actually that's my husband!" She said, "Oh! Sorry, my mistake. I just thought you two looked a bit young, like you just got our of college." And then I said, "We must not be in Utah anymore. Also we got married three years ago." Just kidding. I said, "Yeah, he looks young for his age. He's 29 and I'm 25." Which is funny because he's actually 28 and I'm 24, but I didn't realize that until a minute later. My brain must've added a year to both of our ages as a defense mechanism.
<3 husband.="" med-student="" my="" p="">
By the time they got me checked in and put on a table, the pain had subsided a lot. I think the ibuprofen must've kicked in. The doctor took a look at it and because the wound was too wide all the way around to stitch it closed, she just cleaned it out real good (ouch), slapped a bandaid on it, and wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic. I felt wussy for having to go to the urgent care just to get a bandaid, but I felt better knowing that my husband, who works in a hospital, was the one to suggest it. I was able to walk out a bit stiffly, and then we went to get shakes at a nearby Steak n' Shake. Not quite the Monday evening I had envisioned in my mind (my mind envisioned a trip to Ikea), but it could've been a lot worse! When I woke up this morning I had bled through my huge bandage all over the sheets, so I prescribed myself a day full of Netflix and chill.
