FISH HOOK IN THE EYELID (PART I OF II)

OCTOBER 8, 2019 – Now that I have your attention . . .

I have a somewhat revealing, somewhat embarrassing story to tell—which will also explain why I didn’t pursue a medical career.

My wife and I had just finished hiking in Interstate Park on the Minnesota side of the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway north of the Twin Cities.  The park is known for its unusual glacial potholes and serious rock-climbing opportunities.  We survived without mishap—hiking, that is.

In the parking lot, however, I thought it’d be a good idea to step onto, then off, a large, stone block just yards from our car.  I tripped the instant I raised my knee to execute the good idea. It’s amazing how fast a good idea can become a really dumb idea. My right shin slammed into the sharp edge of the block, splitting skin and striking bone.

I pulled up my jeans leg just in time for blood to flow. Feeling faint, I lay down on the barrier. Justifiably, my wife thought I was kidding or over-reacting. In fact, my reaction—“over” or otherwise—was wholly involuntary.  Despite temps in the 40sF, I broke into a sweat. Worse, I felt as though I might recall breakfast.

Fast forward to The Red Cabin five hours north. Despite a “power” bandage, the wound still oozed.  My leg hurt if I stood or walked.  What if this needs stitches? I thought. How would it heal with all the hiking we’d planned for the next few days? What if it gets infected and I need to have my leg amputated?!

I finally summoned the courage to say to my wife, “I think I need to go to urgent care.” To her credit, she kept her thoughts to herself and offered to drive.

As it turns out, after five in Hayward, WI, you go to ER, not urgent care. On a Tuesday evening in October, however, it’s low volume.  After a short wait, I was ushered into a “theater” where a wall-mounted TV featured a show called, “Life at Below Zero.” Soon I was fully distracted by a segment in which a woman in the middle of nowhere in Alaska was driving a home-made, motorized snow vehicle toward a frozen lake. Her contraption got hopelessly stuck, which allowed for cuts to a guy in the middle of some other part of nowhere in Alaska building a dog sled inside his hovel, then hauling it outside where the temperature was minus 27F.

Eventually a nurse appeared to distract me from the distraction on TV. She took off my bandage and patted the wound with antiseptic towelettes. Then . . . with a guy who faints at the sight of a needle, it’s best is to administer the tetanus shot now!

Then it was back to “Life at Below Zero.”  By this time, the Alaska woman had gotten her vehicle unstuck and was cutting an ice block out of the lake (huh?).

Awhile later, the doctor appeared.  Here’s where the story gets interesting.

Stay tuned.

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© 2019 Eric Nilsson