Hey y'all. I am reposting this entry - apologies if you've seen it before but it was up, then it came down because of technical problems blah blah blah this is so boring ZZZZZZZ.
So Aidan had his first workplace injury, and hopefully his last. He was prying old boards off a dock last Friday when he slipped and fell and tore himself on a couple of rusty nails. Tore himself up but good. He called to tell me about it, and I was all Oh my GOD! Hang on! I'm coming to take you to emergency! But he said his boss was there and ready to take him in, and who could blame him? Who wants their mother driving the back roads at 160 km yelling "I told you so!" So first the bossman doused his leg in rubbing alcohol, and it was a good thing that I wasn't there, because Aidan had to man up and bite the bullet while being consumed by the fires of hell. Then the two of them hopped in the pickup and took off like Bo and Luke Duke, only to spend the next 4 hours in emergency. Cottage country emergency rooms are a study in contrasts: you might have a local guy with an axe through his foot, a weekend angler with a fishhook in his lip, or a Muskoka socialite choking on a cocktail onion. In any case, they stitched Aidan up, but held back on the tetanus shot, since most Ontario kids get inoculated at school around the age of 14, and they didn't want to overdose him. Aidan couldn't recall if he'd had his - they told him if he hadn't, he had 72 hours before lockjaw set in. Of course Aidan was convinced that at precisely 2PM Monday he'd start sounding like Thurston Howell. Turns out he had nothing to worry about, and he will live to pry more boards off docks, albeit a lot more carefully.
Poor guy also had his wisdom teeth removed yesterday, which was rough, since he can't afford to lose much wisdom.