The New Murphy Normal?

I was determined that my next blog entry would be a fun post; a report that would solidify to me (and to you, because I know some of you have your suspicions) that life at the Murphy home can indeed be normal.  But… here I am writing for the sake of sanity once more… processing the seemingly New Normal we entered 7 months ago with the first of (now 4) ER visits.

These are wonderful people,but you never hope to have them rush into your yard – unless of course there is a beloved kitty in the tree that needs to be rescued. We, however, do not have a cat.So when the 5^th rescue vehicle silences it’s sirens in front of your house, even little boys may think it scary rather than exciting.  At least initially.
So what happened this time?  

A boy fell – hard and f a r.

But, instead of a little boy,  it was a big boy in double digits.  It was Grandpa.  Now I need you to know that Grandpa knows and loves ladders – even though he is 67 years young. He also is experienced in cutting trees down.  That is why he came to help Scott get rid of this Dogwood that had an unwanted lean into the neighbor's yard.  But after an unforeseen tension mishap between ladder, tree and rope, grandpa was catapulted a guesstimated 20 feet down.

I heard a shout (one of those unmistakable something's-very-wrong howls), and a THUD... adrenaline transported me to the site in seconds.  Grandpa was alert, but obviously in significant pain. Scott was kneeling by his side.  The boys, just having witnessed one of their hero’s plummet, were a grey-ish-white.  
I f-f-fumbled with the phone… who knew that the numbers 9 and 1 could be so hard to find on the all too familiar pad?? 
When I had finally managed to communicate the necessary details (in my extra-strong, stress-induced accent) to 911, I irrationally started snapping pictures.  Yes, I hear your thoughts: "She may be the one who needed to be admitted!!"  And since there is a spark of truth to that, I unashamedly declare my crazy point-and-shoot session to have been essential therapy. It is called visual-processing-for-the-almost-but-not-quite-yet-insane.

A very observant fireman, who must have thought my actions on the wrong edge of normal, came up to me and asked if I was OK.  Guess what I did… I started crying of course!  I assured him it was just shock-ock-sniff-ock-k-k.  He was one smart man, for after assessing that I would indeed not faint or fizzle into histerics after all, he looked at the 5 sheet-white ghosts at my side, and with a most winsome and comforting smile offered: “Who wants to explore a firetruck!?”

Those guys rock.  That’s all I can say.

In the meantime, grandpa endured a horrendously painful ride to the hospital, and had the ER personal shaking their heads: “What was a 67y/o doing on a ladder?”  They just did not know how young 67 could be.  It is a boy thing, I think... I assume... I fear.

But grandpa is doing very well given the distance he fell and the body-bounce he endured on impact.  He broke his clavicle and suffers from significant back pain, but has no known internal injuries or other fractures. I am absolutely convinced that he had The Everlasting Arms underneath him even as he fell, since he barely missed the spiky edge of a chain link fence and landed literally inches away from some ominously situated, pointy tree stumps.

So… all of this sounds pretty New Murphy-Normal to me, don’t you think?  But still... I have hope that the next post will start with an upbeat: And now for something completely different! 


Update: Poor grandpa.  While his injuries are not life threatening, "it hurt him hijjus!" After 3 days in the hospital, he is facing 3 more in the same bed, and after that another week in an inpatient rehab facility.   Convincing him that this is the most excellent route to recovery has not been easy...he is strong and independent... and every bit as hard-headed as my side of the family! (And that is not a comforting thought: our children are apparently loaded  with a double dose of formidable genes from both sides of the ocean...)


Another update: Grandpa does have 3 vertebral fractures after all.  It does not change things a whole lot, except that he has an explanation for his pain and is facing a longer recovery period than the few days he initially hoped.