My youngest son is a nurse.  This fact brings me a great deal of pride…not only because I feel that he is following in my footsteps but also because I feel that I somehow knew that this would happen at some point.  That point came after we refurbished our bathroom.  Why we felt the need to do this is yet another story that involves raising boys…and why you should never leave them unattended for the weekend.  As you can see – I have years of writing material.  But back to the bathroom…

We were very happy with our new bathroom.  It had a beautiful pedestal sink…a deep soaking tub…and a beautiful sliding shower door that was a welcome replacement to our musty shower curtain.  I know that shower curtains can be washed…or better yet…replaced.  We just never seemed to get around to that.  I was ecstatic to behold the clear safety glass that would keep the water contained and off our new tile.   I believe I was able to “behold” this for all of two weeks.  This was before some sort of act of God..nature…or another frontal lobe faux pas.

I was at work when I received the call from Matt.  “Mom – the shower door broke..!”  My heart took a leap…or it may have been more my stomach.  Are you kidding?  Already?  I hoped that it was something small – like those little pit marks that you can get filled in your car windshield.  How I though a random rock would have hit the door…I don’t know.  “Hmmm….what do you mean…It broke?”  And of course – the answer comes.  “It fell off the track and burst into a thousand pieces.”  “Where were you when this happened?”  “In the shower” was the reply that made me think….hmmm…this could be bad.  I don’t know about you…but I typically shower without clothes.  Matt was describing a situation in which a thousand pieces of safety glass had just fallen on him…while he was unclothed and in a slippery, wet shower.  At that point, I decided focusing on the  fact that we just replaced that door would not win me any mother of the year award.

“Are you hurt?” thinking that if anything had been dismembered, he would probably not be so calm…I hoped.  He has a pretty high pain tolerance.  This was proven when the MD could not get him numb prior to stitching a gash on his leg…that he received 2 hours prior to my mother’s memorial service…by hitting a parked car on his bike.  Again…another story.

He responded, “I’m a little cut up but I’m ok.  I have to go to basketball practice.  I just didn’t want you to see it before I got home.  I don’t have time to clean it up.”  I assured him that I would clean up, naively assuming that it was a bunch of glass with some superficial blood drops.   I set off for home to ensure that I got there before a few of my family members.  Some of my gang do not do blood well.

I walked in the house and was not prepared for what I saw.  Blood…EVERYWHERE!  Bloody handprints on the hallway walls.  Bloody footprints on the hallway tile.  Blood on the thousand shards of safety glass.  OH MY LORD!  This was “a little cut up?”  Did he lose an appendage?  I started to look for one.  I mean – he could text with one hand.  Did something else get cut off and he didn’t want to tell mThe Shining 2e that he would not be providing any grandchildren?  There was blood throughout the house…even on the box of bandages!  And there were bandaid wrappers strewn on the floor.  I started to picture how he had wrapped an arterial bleed in a Curad.

At this point, I decided that it would be best to go to his Basketball practice and take him to the hospital.  How much blood can a person lose before they pass out?  Did he get to basketball practice?  Will I find him on the side of the road?  Did he even have his license with him?  Is he now a John Doe?  It’s amazing how your thoughts can go from sane to apocalyptic chaos in a matter of minutes.  I pulled up to the school and bolted into the gym.

He was there…running sprints…with about 30 bandages on him.  Not passed out…nothing apparently…missing.  He was fine.  Numerous cuts…but all superficial.  Turns out – he’s quite the bleeder.  He will never have a stroke since apparently…his blood does not clot.  I pulled him off and examined him just to make sure that nothing required stitches.  Nope…nothing.  Now I was able to focus again on the door.

“Ok…tell me the truth.  How did this happen?”  His reply?  “I don’t know how it happened.  It just…sort of…fell off.”   For no reason…it fell off.  Sound fishy to you?  I delved deeper.  “Did you slam it?”  “No Mom…honest….I don’t know how it happened.  It just fell.”  Now typically, I get the truth about ten years after the fact.  This one is about due.  I’m looking forward to hearing about it.

We never did replace the door.  We just brought back the shower curtain…a new one.  Not the musty one.  Although…I haven’t checked in a while.  We still have half a glass door.  Apparently, whatever “act of God” knocked the first one off has never been repeated.  I leave it there as a reminder that God protects fools and children…and has special care for those that are both!






Posted by:Sheri Saretsky

I spent ten years as a single parent of three boys. I then married my wonderful husband and he was inducted into the world of boy raising. Now we get to add my peri-menopause to the mix! Its been a crazy I wouldn't change a minute of....

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