Vacation Accident

highway_1Hubby took this picture. It’s from our vacation stash. We’re back but not totally here. We have relatives coming and going like our shoebox home is a 5 star hotel. It isn’t, of course, but it’s a whole lot cheaper (namely free) than relatives finding a wharf side hotel with a continental breakfast. And what are we relatives for, if not to mooch off of.

I used to have this friend, and she may still be a friend, but the main reason I don’t classify her instantly as a friend is she has all these theories about life. They are theories I don’t like. They may be true, and they may not, but as the years roll on they have a tendency to prove themselves in way that makes me want to recant our friendship.

One of her theories is when you get married you both start out with separate, distinct, and polar personality traits. Then, as you live together the bad traits start meeting in the middle. You start sharing them. The final stage of this progression is your husband picks up your bad traits, and you pick up his.

That theory drives me nuts, solid coo coo. First, I’m well aware of my bad traits. Secondly, I don’t want to swap mine for his bad traits because some of mine might kill him.

Case in point: My accident proneness (Is that even a word?)
The first day of vacation we left Oakland and drove straight to Point Lobos. We spoke to the park docent, the one with the floppy hat born before Jesus, and then we hiked down the rocks to take some photos of the ocean. Note: we have no photos of Point Lobos because before Hubby could take a single shot, a rouge wave climbed up the rocks, slapped his ass into the ocean, and tried to kill him. It was that quick. We had not been out of Oakland’s city limits for 3 hours.

Was Hubby in a dangerous part of the beech? Were there signs warning us about rouge waves? No and no. I was standing a good 50 feet behind him on solid dry land, and my back got drenched. I turned away only at the last minute when the sea surged. When I turned around, Hubby was gone. Totally. I screamed for him. Nothing. And then a hand shot up out of the sea with a camera on it, like a periscope from a submerged submarine. The Big Guy was trying to save his camera. And he did. His cell phone – not so much.

We went back to the ranger station and the pre-Jesus docent’s eyes popped out of his head. He called Mike, the Park Ranger, who had Hubby sign some forms saying we weren’t going to sue. When he started filling out more paperwork, I turned sour and said, “We have to go to the ER now. He’s bleeding.”
leg_messHubby checked in at the emergency room, leaving a bloody trail from triage to registration and back to a treatment room. They bandaged him up nicely and put one stitch in his leg. I have more extensive pictures of the debacle but he’s in his skivvies, and no one wants to see that.

I heard him say things in the emergency room that I’ve said, like “I’m going to be fine. Just fine,” and “Don’t worry about me. Really.”

That’s when I remembered my friend and her theory. About that time, I threatened God or the universe or my friend – hard to say which. “Honest to God, we simply can’t be sharing these accident prone accidental death wish maneuvers,” and I kicked the hospital supply cart. I would have kicked my so-called friend if she had been present.

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9 Responses to “Vacation Accident”

  1. Great post. Sorry about the misshap, glad he is okay. That must have been one hell of a wave. Sounds like a mini Tsunami.

    • It was a hell of a wave, and so weird. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I’m leery of the ocean anyway, but now even more so.

  2. Jeebus! That looks painful. I’m impressed, that wave had to be powerful to knock him off his feet and drag is ass into the water. By the way, nice legs, us Japanese Mexicans can only dream about having that much ankle to knee leg length, we is leg-length deprived :o) !

    I’m not surprised you get house guests, your house is to neat! If you had four feet of debris piled all over your house people wouldn’t want to stay there. Mess it up woman! I have to be hog tied and dragged to significant other’s son’s house, the place is a hell hole of debris, dirty dishes, socks, dog and cat hair, toys, food, empty dirty glasses, stained furniture, dead roaches, dirty laundry, discarded fast food wrappers, dust, mucky bathrooms, and windows so grimy you can’t see out of them. That’s the kind of house that relatives avoid like the plague.

    • Hubby is 6’5″ but mostly leg. One of his other nicknames is “Bird Leg.” We are quite the couple. He’s 6′ 5″ and I’m 5′ 3″. Mutt and Jeff.

      OH YUK, AZ. I don’t know how you do it. I have a thing against nasty homes. Dead roaches and fast food wrappers? Double yuk. Mine isn’t immaculate by any means but you’ll never catch garbage and dirty dishes sitting around.

  3. I remember an older employer of mine who was a very difficult to say the least. He used to driver me mad and I often said, “I don’t know how his wife puts up with him! She needs a medal!” A while later, he had to go away for a week on business and he asked if I would stay with his wife for a couple of nights to keep her company. She was an older lady and hadn’t been at that house for long…
    I said yes and to my absolute horror and amazement I found her to be a female version of Bob (The employer)
    I skirted around the subject of how similar she and he were in their ways and she replied… “We never used to be…. we’ve just grown like this over the years…”
    That leg looks blimmin’ painful! AZ is right! THat isone long leg! Is the other one the same size?

    • Ahhhhh, another case study to support the theory. I suppose my friend is right, as much as I don’t want her to be.

      I thought the leg looked painful too but Hubby claimed it wasn’t. He is all leg too. He used to wear those short shorts but I finally convinced him no one in Oakland can take that much Bird Leg.

  4. Poor hubby…those wounds look painful! Take care you two and enjoy the company.

  5. He says they don’t hurt. He’s a brute. Thanks. We will enjoy the company.

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