This caused me to chuckle. Several years back, a computer tech came to the home to replace the mother board on our computer. I was watching him for a while. He had a utility knife and was trying to cut the box open to get the mother board out. The knife was sticking and he dropped it several times, cussing when he did. I wondered if I was making him nervous so I stepped out of the room and did not return.
Quite some time later he tells me its complete but that it will take time to boot up. I thanked him but did not return to the computer room. Instead, I was busy being a good little patient, and minding my doctors orders at the time to be elevating my leg as much as possible. See, I had just days earlier been told I had thrombosis and was put on rest, elevation and blood thinners.
Well, later my husband returns home and asks about the computer. We went in together to check on it. I sat down at it and followed the rest of the instructions for set up. Computer was working fantastically. I got up to allow my husband the seat and I felt my foot kind of catch on the carpet. I thought, "wow, the skin of my feet must be really dry." I looked down at my foot and had to blink twice to clear my brain of what I thought I was seeing. No. Vision was clear. There was indeed a utility blade sticking out of the top of my foot. It had entered through the bottom of my foot and the tip was lifting the skin on the top of my foot and barely poking through. The whole blade was inside my foot and here I was on blood thinners.
So, I let out a gasp and that startled my husband. Then when he looked down at what I was looking at he too had to blink a few times. Then he panics!! Our son, who was 8 years old at the time, comes running to see what's going on. He meets me hopping down the hallway to get to the couch so I can throw my foot up. My husband is almost hyperventilating and shouting "What do I do? What do I do?"
Thank Jah for 8 year-olds! Our son gets the phone and hands it to his dad and says, "you need to call 911 and give them this address" he instructs as he points to an "emergency board" we made for him. Then he comes over to me and says while patting my hand: "Mom, don't pay attention to dad. You're going to be OK." (I sometimes wonder if he was saying that as much to reassure himself as to reassure me.)