Yesterday Chris was to finish his project and come to the house - we finally were going to get to work together. The couple days he's been there to work on the house have been great. In fact, the point of this whole thing was not only to have a home but to build the home together (with the help of my dad of course). It was supposed to temper all the struggling we've done in Toronto - his and my incessant schedule, doing tedious work in the same home - all of the things that makes life a bit tedious. Needless to say, I was really excited for us to work together.
Yet, fate (literally) hit me on the head once again. The kitchen ceiling/office floor had to be torn down and rebuilt. This week, my father and I spend our time measuring and building new joists. While my father was putting the plywood down, I was adamant about tearing up the remaining kitchen floor, eagerly awaiting Chris and looking forward to this week spent working together. I thought, "finally, we get to hang out and do this together as we planned." As I was struggling with the floor, my father asked if I wanted to come up and help him screw in the plywood. I, again, insisted on tearing up the floor so we could get our final dump run in. My father was sawzalling the plywood above me, the plywood got away from him and the sheet came crashing down onto my head.
I knew it was bad when my father, ordinarily NOT an alarmist, came running down the steps in a panic. I realized that my head was bleeding pretty bad. I called Chris who was at the hardware store, and told him to get there. He ran over, and we decided it was best to go to the ER. Between the tetanus shot I had to get last week for stepping on a nail, the ER bill that will surely be a doozy from yesterday, and the massive ER and ambulance bills from Chris's fall, we've racked up a load of medical bills. You'd think we'd learn our lesson and at least wear a fucking hard hat. The moment I saw Chris, I bursted into tears. It's been great but really disappointing.
The cut hurt. The staples they used to suture it is excruciating. The doctor was training a resident and while the doctor had a delicate and decisive click of the staple gun, the resident was much more hesitant and slowly drove the damn things into my head. Patsy told me that new residents start in July so it's best to visit an ER in May or something. I'll keep that in mind.
