Luke is having a slumber party. His bestest buddy Butch is here. Butch belongs to Jeff and Katie down the street. He and Luke can chase each other, wrassle, and otherwise convince the uninitiated that there's about to be bloodshed. If I open my front door, Luke tries to bolt to Butch's house. If Jeff and Katie open theirs, Butch bolts over here. I swear they have cell phones; it's as if they can hear the respective doors open three houses away.
I'm trying to decide whether the two knuckleheads can both sleep in the house tonight. They're alternately chilling and then remembering that they're nuts. Luke is nosing a chair across the dining room and Butch is trying to figure out why. It's like watching a cartoon, at least until one attempts to mount the other. Then it's more like Animal Planet.
It's good to get insight into your friends' lives. Unfortunately, I now have insight into Jeff's knee. Butch is here because Jeff and Katie are at the hospital. I was home this afternoon and heard Jeff shout. Then I heard him again. He's spending the summer adding on to his house, doing much of the work himself. When I got down the street, I asked if he was pissed off or hurt. Then he showed me his leg. Something happened with a saw. That's as graphic as I'm going to get. Katie was on the way, so I sat with him to try to keep him calm and make sure he didn't go into shock or pass out.
He's at the hospital, they've started the antibiotics, and at last report they were waiting to go into radiology to identify how much damage there is and what to do next.
I stayed calm when I was with him, with his in-laws, and with Katie. And then I came home and lost it. I've seen other injuries. I've seen a soccer teammate's head when it needed nearly 100 stitches to close. But three hours later, I'm still shaky.
Maybe it's because it was just him and me sitting on the porch.
Maybe it's because he and Katie are my friends.
Maybe it's because he talked about never playing volleyball again and I know what it's like to lose something like that (soccer).
Maybe it's because everything we went through with @ makes things like this so much more real.
But I also know I'm fortunate to have people who watch out for me. I called X, and because he lives near the hospital he went check on Jeff, then called me with details. I sent an "I gotta get this into words and outta my system" e-mail to a friend from school and he called to make sure I was OK and just talk to me for a bit (he knows I always say I'm OK, he knows that sometimes I'm completely full of sh**).
And now I have these two moronic canines slowly considering settling down, which gives me something to watch and to wish that, perhaps for a few hours, I could be as ignorant and happy as they are.
Here's to having good friends and dumb dogs.