Last week before 8am (so before it was really legitimate to be aware or in any way relate to the world) there was a car accident right in front of our house.  Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration.  It was really about half-way between our neighbor’s house and ours.  So it was a good 25 feet from our front door.  Seriously.

I was in the back of the house and it was so loud and so violent that I thought that someone had actually crashed into our house!  Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.  Cameron hardly looked up, I’m sure thinking that the nearby Air Force base was doing some nuclear testing or that perhaps a small planet had exploded in the outer atmosphere.  I however knew that something was really wrong (all sarcasm aside).

I ran outside to see that two SUVs had come to abrupt halts in the traffic to the elementary school down the street.  Everyone was moving and talking (and in some cases crying), and my neighbor – an R.N. – had spoken with everyone to be sure no one was horribly injured.  Several people had cell phones to their ears, and I myself had just hung up with the 911 operator.  So instructing Cameron to stay inside, I took a few water bottles that I had nearby to give to those who were now waiting for Sheriff Deputies to arrive.

I had to cross the street and was careful to step around the large chunks of CAR in the middle of the road.  But I wasn’t careful enough!  I felt something sharp in my heel.  Ouch!  It turned out that only the kids wanted water, so I headed back across the street with my remaining bottles and haphazardly brushed the bottom of my foot in case there was anything stuck to it.  OUCH!!  A pretty good sized chuck of plastic dropped to the ground.

How silly of me to run out into a street full of debris without shoes on…

I limped across my lawn and onto the concrete path headed to my front door.  Cameron greeted me warmly and I was about to step inside when I saw that I was apparently leaving a trail from where I first stepped onto the concrete up to the front door.  And when I lifted my foot to see what was on it, it kept dripping.  Actively.  A lot.  Uh oh…

So now, how do I get inside for something to clean this up when I’m outside and still bleeding?  Just inside the door is tile, but I have to cross carpet to get to the closest sink in the kitchen; and that’s nowhere near the bathroom where most of our first aid supplies are!

Well, thank God for children who love to do as Daddy asks!  I remembered a hand-towel that was down a carpeted hallway (so better I don’t go down there), and Cameron was very eager to get it for Daddy.  And so I limped in and sat on the tile with a towel on the bottom of my foot.  And Cameron and I talked about how we should always wear shoes when we go outside!

My foot’s fine now…  And I’ve learned my lesson!