Misery loves company, at least that’s what “they,” say, but as military spouses perhaps we just like to know that fate, bad luck, voodoo, or the Dark Lord himself is not merely fixated on ruining our meager lives during deployment and/or long trainings, TDYs, and let’s even throw in weekend drill: meet Murphy’s Law. I’ll admit when I hear that someone’s van cables were munched on like gourmet cheese by Templeton the rat’s little brother I feel a sense of comfort (as awful as that sounds-sorry friend.) We’ve all heard it said: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. So here you are, fellow spouses, 3 times when Murphy ALMOST won.
1. Lost Limb…
There will always be those few sounds you never forget, for example: the first time you heard your baby cry, the sound of the chalk, or the sound of pain (the real kind). It was the Sunday after my spouse left for deployment, and I really needed a nap. I had just laid my head down on my parents’ couch when I heard the crash, followed by the shriek I will never forget. I popped up and before I could even stand up I heard my mom shout, “His finger is gone!” Now let me tell you about my mom, bless her soul, but she is a little jumpy, and easy to excite (sorry, mom), so my first instinct was to not believe her, yet after running upstairs and seeing my three-year-old holding up his hand with nothing but bone where his index finger should be, I soon realized this was not a case of overreacting. His finger was GONE, at least a large part of it.
My three-year-old informed me that he had been jumping on the bed and had somehow mange to get his finger entwined in the blind cord while simultaneously falling off the bed. The force of his little body falling was enough to completely “cap,” the finger just below the first knuckle. ANYTHING that can go wrong…. The force flung the detached part of the finger somewhere in the room.
I quickly scooped up my little guy and gathered my thoughts. Somehow I knew exactly what to do. I assigned my mother to hold the base of the finger to slow the blood flow (sorry again, mom) while my father and I searched the room for the finger. There I was on all fours (6 weeks postpartum I might add) searching for a fingertip for what seemed like forever. After about five minutes of no luck I instructed my dad to drive us to the nearest emergency room twenty minutes away while my mom resumed the search for the finger.
After arriving at the emergency room, my mother called informing us that she had found the finger. It had landed on a DVD shelf across the room in a pile of dust. Upon our arrival the doctor arranged for us to be life lighted to a facility that could surgically reattach the finger. Long story short, the finger was reattached and though most of it died a good part lived and continues to thrive. Murphy’s Law strikes again.
The silver lining: My little boy got a free helicopter ride (thanks, Tricare) and I met some of the nicest and most talented physicians, nurses, pilots, and medical personnel known to man.