Real men don’t call 911. Lacerations, contusions or amputations are only emergencies for mere mortals. Men will refuse to call or seek help for any illness, accident or even heart attack unless forced to do so by an outside party, such as a spouse or partner. The only reason a man will willingly seek out emergency help or call 911 is if he needs help finding a missing appendage in case of an amputation. Then he will try to shake off any help by the paramedics except to maybe reattach the amputated limb.
Believe me I know this from experience. Mitch has refused to seek medical attention even under threat of physical force to drag him to the hospital. I came home from work one day and no one was waiting at the door to greet me, which was very odd. I walked into the house and still no dog or man came to say hi, getting weirder. As I walked into the bedroom there was Mitch laying on the bed, his right thumb and forefinger wrapped in blood soaked bandages. I asked what happened and he just pointed skyward. I looked at the ceiling and saw a hole about the size of a silver dollar with more pellets imbedded around the main hole.
There were bloodstains on his jeans and my first thought was that those are not going to come out. There were bits of ceiling and insulation on the floor next to the bed. Again I asked what happened.
His explanation so plausible to another man was just as ludicrous to a woman. He was working on one of his shotguns by cycling a single shotgun shell in the chamber when the gun went off. Of course the shell had to be live. What was I thinking? Obviously a stupid question. His thumb and forefinger were wrapped around the end of the barrel of the gun holding it steady. Once he realized that he had not blown off his thumb and forefinger, then it became just another cut, no big deal. The shot caused a nickel sized laceration on his thumb and forefinger that looked like someone had taken a grapefruit spoon and scooped out a section of flesh. Needless to say both fingers bled profusely.
I told him that I wanted to look at the wounds and he said, “No the blood would be too much for you.” That I couldn’t take it. Me – who has raised two boys through broken bones, broken noses and visits to the ER for stitches. After examining the wounds and re-dressing them, I asked why he didn’t call 911.
“Call 911 are you kidding me? It’s just a small cut almost a scratch.
4 thoughts on “Call 911 Are You Kidding Me?”
😳 Sounds familiar
yep — my dad had a hernia for seven years before he mentioned it to anyone.
Your poor dad. I hope you have not followed in your father’s shoes.
no, I would surely get it fixed before five years 🙂