Monday, May 2, 2016

This One Goes Out to All You Mothers...

WARNING: This blog post contains a picture of a real-life, disturbing-looking wound. The squeamish should exercise caution and/or go read another blog, maybe one about unicorns and/or fluffy kittehs and bunnehs, or similar.

Have I mentioned that my Senior-in-college son, Balthazar, plays guitar in a friend's band? He met the fellow up at school, but M (the friend) lives in the tri-state area. Anyway, M's a mover and shaker, and hustles to get them gigs, no matter how humble the venue (think unfinished basement of someone's house). Whatevs, folks gotta start somewhere, and I admire that will-play-for-beer/pot spirit.

They regularly gig during the academic year and on breaks. During the January break, Balthy advised me that the band was heading back up to school on a Thursday afternoon for a show, and then going on to New Haven for another performance that coming Saturday. I noted that a blizzard was expected over the weekend and urged caution, a notion promptly scoffed at by the spawn of my womb.

So I went to work on Wednesday and by the time I got home Balthy was already out with some friends. I knew he'd get back in the wee hours and, as it was a school-night for me, I wouldn't be able to see him till he returned from New Haven the following week. Such is life.

Well, the blizzard did hit, hard, and I nervously checked in with Balthy on Saturday. I was relieved to learn the Connecticut gig had been canceled. The Kid and his friends would be driving back from school on Sunday night. My anxiety level spiked again, as the parkway they'd take is hella curvy, poorly lit, and bound to be a snowy mess.

I spent Sunday in a state of useless hypervigilance, frequently sending up prayers that the kids all made it to their respective homes safely. When Balthazar's key turned in the lock around 7:30pm, I let out a whoosh of relief and thanked God for being so utterly groovy.

Balthazar joined me in my room, plopped on my bed and started chatting. He commented on how good my dinner, which was being kept in the oven so as to stay warm, smelled. In a fit of motherly relief and benevolence, I said he could have it. He thanked me, then gave me his weird, "Boy, are you gonna hate what I'm about to dish up" smile.

Me, on alert: What?

Balthy: I'm gonna show you something that's gonna freak you out. (He stood and his hands went to the waistline of his jeans.)

Me, enthusiastically: Didja get a tattoo?

Balthy, still with the shit-eating grin: Nah... (He pushed down the jeans and showed me the stuff of mothers' nightmares.)

Me, feeling the blood drain from my face: What's that?

Balthy: A dog bite.

Me, through numb lips: From what kind of dog?

Balthy: A big one.

Me: ...when?

Balthy: Wednesday night.

(My eyes shot to his face.) Me: Did you seek medical attention for this?

Balthy, grin widening impossibly: Nah, had to travel with the band the next day, remember? Been puttin' Neosporin on it, covering it with gauze and whatnot. The worst part is that the dog ruined the pair of skinny jeans that I'd just bought that day.

Me, miraculously refraining from throttling him: You're a fucking idiot.

Lest you think I exaggerate the horror that was the semi-healed dog-bite, here's a pic.

Balthy's dog-bite, four days after the event.
Yep, those are puncture wounds. From fangs.
PUNCTURE WOUNDS FROM FANGS.

The ruined skinny-jeans.

I made the little blighter eat (my dinner!) while I got dressed and after he finished we slogged our way through the snow-packed streets to the emergency room of the hospital right around the block (thank God for small mercies).

I have to say, that was our quickest emergency room visit to date, as we were in and out in under an hour and I missed only about the first ten minutes of Downton Abbey (What? It was the final season!). At that point, there wasn't much to be done: the medical staff gave the wound a cursory inspection but, as it showed no sign of infection, asked if he was up to date with his tetanus booster, prescribed a course of antibiotics, and took down the dog-owner's contact info so the state health department could follow up and obtain proof that the dog (either a Rottweiler or a Pit Bull) was up to date on its shots.

(OK, there was one gratifying moment when the triage nurse asked when the bite happened and, upon learning it'd taken place FOUR DAYS PRIOR, looked up from her paperwork to sharply admonish Balthy, "It's Sunday!")

Anyway, Balthy has survived the bite (so far!) and, I hope, has learned NOT to let something like that go untreated for FOUR FUCKING DAYS. Also, I've learned that I need to go for my tetanus booster. Maybe y'all should consider it too, if it's been over ten years since you've had one.

The reason I dedicated this post to mothers is two-fold:

1. You all have been through this kind of terror-striking-incident with your own kids and, I'm sure, can so totally relate, and;

2. In honor of all us mothers, I'm making the e-Book version of my Greek-myth-based romance novel, THAT FATAL KISS, FREE for Mother's Day weekend 2016! Be sure to Facebook, Tweet, and otherwise share the hell out of this post to all and sundry and, if you'd like to pick up your own FREE copy, click here from Saturday, May 7 through Monday, May 9, 2016***!

***I think the times for Amazon's promotional events are Pacific times, so don't take any chances and snatch up your free copy on Mother's Day itself!***


18 comments:

  1. Yikes! That boy is so lucky it wasn't a festering mess by the time you saw it. I'm fortunate that Jane didn't present me with a lot of this kind of stuff (can't actually remember anything remotely like that), since she was not the adventurous sort when it came to physical things. I confess that I scrolled quickly past the wound picture, as I'm one of the squeamish folk. ::shudders::

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    1. Wish I could've scrolled past it when Balthy showed me! :-)

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  2. Oh my good god! He is sooooo lucky it didn't get infected in those 4 days. How did it happen? Was it a friend's dog? Eek! Glad he's OK now though. Do you know whatever happened to the dog?

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    1. Yeah, a friend's dog, one that knew him but for whatever reason was feeling bitey. Not sure if anything happened to the dog...though apparently, right after it bit him, his friend's mother said something along the lines of, "We really need to put that dog down." Which, you know, is pretty sad but dang.

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  3. Amazing, dog bites are not something to fool with. But he did come home and show it to you, knowing you'd take care of things. They act dumb, but they know!
    And OMG how big was that dog!!!
    My son did that to me once, only it was an infected ingrown toenail. Silly boys!
    Happy May, Happy Mother's Day!
    (and the next book?)

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    1. Happy Mothers Day to you, too! And, God willing, I'll be writing this summer...would love to get something new out into the world by September but not prepared to make any promises...

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  4. That is one nasty bite. If I ever find out one of my boys lets something like that go untreated for four days, we'll be having a talk. Either way, that definitely had to be a big dog.

    And that's an awesome Mother's Day treat! Happy Mother's Day!

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  5. That dog thought he tasted he good!
    Ouch. Dog bites hurt SO much.

    Glad he's okay.
    I will share about your book. You know I loved it!

    Heather

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  6. Yikes! As scary as that is, after seeing a smaller version of the picture in blog reader, I was a tiny bit relieved to see it wasn't a nasty rash. Dog bite is more frightening, but less icky somehow.

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    1. I get what you mean. Didn't realize the pic would be visible in the blog reader...hope it's too small to disturb anyone!

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  7. Ack! That's one nasty dog bite. Can't imagine ever letting a wound like that go untreated for so long. Thank goodness it didn't result in a more serious ailment!

    And how exciting about that sale you're doing for Mother's Day! Hope it helps you gain heaps of new readers! :)

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  8. Ouch! One of my three would do something like that.
    The other two would tell me. (Thank goodness!)

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    1. LOL, it's good two out of three would! :-)

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  9. Dog's can do a number on ya, but the fact that the mother said they should put it down tells you something about how often this has happened before. So glad the dog was up to date on his shots... as well as the boy. :)

    Happy Mother's day!

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C'mon, post a comment. All the cool kids do.

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