In the continuing adventures of the motorcycle accident...

There was some humor to be had in yesterday's events. For example, after I saw Ben at the scene of the accident, I had to double back to the house to crate Logan before I met him (and the ambulance) at the hospital.

Here's what I did bring to the hospital: my laptop (because I knew I'd be sitting around, waiting, and what perfect time to get writing work done!), a book to read (ditto, just in case laptops weren't allowed or my time was more intermittent), granola bars for Ben (because I knew he hadn't eaten breakfast).

Here's what I did not bring: clothes for Ben (despite the fact that I'd clearly seen his torn to shreds where the chaps didn't cover them), something for Ben to do during all the waiting (because, really, why would I think of him?).

Bottom line: Won't be winning that Wife of the Year trophy anytime soon. Poor guy had to wear scrub bottoms and his leather jacket home. But, hey. At least I got some writing done. *eye roll*

I also present, for your amusement, some conversations direct from the hospital room. I had to wait about an hour for Ben to have an ultrasound done and what better way to fill the time than capture funnies for the blog?

This is one I overheard from a Doctor (D), Patient (P) and Patient's Girlfriend (P GF) who were unlucky enough to have to hang out in the hallway, as the ER ran out of rooms:

D: When did it start?
P: Sunday
D: So, when you got stabbed?
P: Yeah.
…
D: You have another one?
P: Oh, yeah! *rustling sheets*
D: Oh! I didn’t realize you had more. How many times did you get stabbed??
P: Uh…eight?
P GF: Yeah, eight.
P: Eight.
D: Wow.

I realize this may not read nearly as funny as it sounded, but the doctor was so flabbergasted by this guy's eight stab wounds, it just cracked me up. And to hear a conversation that begins with symptoms starting "when you got stabbed" is hilarious to me. I know. I'm a bad person.

Lastly, a sampling of conversations between me and Ben. Or, as I have titled them, Ben Being Ridiculous:

R: Need anything?
B: Can you hand me my phone?
R: *hands phone, presumably so he can call loved ones and assure them he’s not dead*
B: Oh, look. 27 emails.
R: *goes nuclear* You are not checking your emails from a fucking hospital bed. Give me that.
…
B on phone to biz partner: I have a meeting at 2 with [coworker] and [client]. I don’t know if I’ll make that.
R: *frowning* You’re not going back to work today.
B: Oh, Renee says she’s not sure I’ll make it back to work today, so—
R: *gives The Look* No, I said you’re not going back to work today.
B: Oh. Oh. Apparently I’m not coming back to work today.