my own worst enemy

Just after Mother’s Day I was preparing dinner for a houseful of people. My niece Jessica was helping Lauren make the meatloaf. I was peeling potatoes. The house was filled with the sounds of Michael and his friends laughing and generally having a good time.
The events of the next few moments actually (no kidding!) happened in slow motion in my mind, just like in the movies. I noticed that the trash was heaped impossibly high in the can. I needed to put the potato peels in as I didn’t want them to fall back out onto the floor. I held the bowl in my left hand and reached into the trash with my right hand. I just wanted to push it down a bit. That is all. I saw the opened can that had only recently held seasoned tomatoes. I saw that the lid was still partially attached to the can. I also noted that it was sticking straight up as if to greet me.
In my mind I said to myself, "Holy crap that is going to hurt!" at the very moment the lid sliced into my thumb. I made it to the sink before the tears started. It was not so much that it hurt as it was the shock it of the whole situation. I had a full house. I had to finish dinner. I did NOT have time for this.
I leaned over the sink and sobbed. Within seconds the kitchen was so full that it was impossible to move. My husband was trying his best to scald me, or so it seemed, as he tried to rinse the blood away. The man apparently had no idea which way was hot and which was cold. (Note to self: introduce the man to the kitchen!) My son’s girlfriend of the moment was hiding in Lauren’s bedroom. Neither one handles blood. Michael’s friend’s wife stepped in and finished the meatloaf and started the potatoes cooking while everyone else did their best to stop the bleeding.
From a long way away I heard Michael yelling at Ben, "I am trained in combat medicine!" while Ben was trying to open my husband’s First Responder bag. All I could do was cry. Suddenly I felt someone behind me. Arms reached around me and held me close. Someone rested their face on my back. Michael. I could hear him talking in a hushed voice, "I don’t know what to do when it is Mama that is hurt. She always handles everything."
A calm feeling settled over me. I straightened up and looked at my husband. My hand didn’t really hurt. I was mostly exhausted from the crying fit. It was decided that I should have it looked at by a doctor. 
The doctor examined it and when I left I had 4 stitches and a sore arm from a tetanus shot. It is amazing how many things require the use of your thumb. For the next week I learned to do things a bit differently or suffer the painful consequences. My children constantly remind me that I am probably the only person on the planet to be attacked by a trash can.
This past Wednesday I was in the process of helping Ben tear down an ancient shed on the property. I was actually wearing real shoes for once. It was exhausting filthy work. Sam had long since abandoned me. Ben was resting on the deck.
My intentions were good. I was just going to pick up a few boards and put them on the trailer. My husband wanted the job finished so that he could make a run to the landfill when he finished his string of night shifts. You know what they say about good intentions.
I reached for a board that was about six feet long. I am fairly certain it was a 1X6 and probably every day of 75 years old. The nails were so rusty I am shocked the building was still standing. No sooner had my fingers touched the board than it began to fall.
As fate would have it the board hit my foot from a height of about six feet. It also managed to hit my toe. The odd thing is that the nail in the board went straight (with no detours) through a hole in the top of my sneaker. I felt a bit sick to my stomach but somehow I limped across the yard and into the house. Ben and Sam were puzzled until I took my shoe off and they saw the blood.
Ben went to grab the ever handy First Responder bag and Sam ran to wake his daddy. Poor man cannot rest in this house. The nail went into my foot about 1/4 inch below the base of my toenail.
I tried to rest but it hurt too bad. Every time my heart beat my foot throbbed. I washed my hair in the kitchen sink and sponged off as best I could. There was no way I was going to the doctor smelling like I didn’t own soap!
Lauren drove me. The doctor wrapped my toe and gave me antibiotics and painkillers. Painkillers are wonderful things in case you didn’t already know that. I was under orders to stay off my foot and return the next day for possible x-rays.
I did indeed need the x-rays. I chipped the bone in my toe. I have to see an orthopedist on Tuesday to see if I need surgery. For the next few days I have to rest my foot, swallow painkillers every 4 hours and watch my toe turn all the colors in a bag of Skittles! My foot is swollen. It hurts to walk for more than a few minutes. I still have a house to run.
It is sad but the doctor asked about a tetanus shot and was reminded that I had gotten one only 5 weeks ago. He contemplated giving me crutches for about 15 seconds before he concluded (along with his nurse) that "You’d just hurt yourself". Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed!