On Sunday, it was gorgeous outside: bright sun, temps in the upper sixties. B decided he'd take a bike ride. He was gone for a couple hours.
When he returned he opened the garage door and put away his bike and bike helmet, and walked directly into the bathroom, all without saying a word. B's a man of few words so I didn't think anything of it. When he came out of the bathroom, he went and sat at his desk.
A few minutes later, I heard him say, as quietly and calmly as you please, "Dearie, I think I need medical attention."
Oh shit. I have a reputation for overreacting, so immediately I'm thinking heart attack, getting ready to call 911.
I went in and saw he had really done his knee up good -- what do they call it? Road rash? His knee was a nice bloody mess. No serious internal damage, thank heaven, but he left a few bits of himself on the pavement somewhere.
So I looked at it, and said, "Hmmm. Looks like you skinned your knee."
It really is a bad scrape. He did end up going to the Urgent Care clinic to get it cleaned up and get a tetanus shot. I felt bad that he fell, and I babied him along on Sunday. But, really, it's just a scrape, and it's kind of time for him to suck it up and move on.
I watched him change the bandage on it tonight, and I was a little concerned that he would actually pass out. I figured it was because it was so painful. But he said it didn't hurt that much, but that it "just looked sooooo gross! Don't you think it looks gross?" I rolled my eyes, and told him he just flunked Female 101.
I've been puked on, pooped on, peed on, had four surgeries and I've given birth multiple times. Oh, and for years I had cramps that would have brought him to his knees. So a skinned knee is gross? I looked at it and said, "Yes dear, it is indeed gross. I'm sorry you have a boo boo."
I don't think he believed that I felt sorry for his pain. I was too busy laughing. But you know what? Thank God he had a helmet on.



