I know I can get my keyboard to make all those fancy French accent marks, but I am really too lazy to figure out how.
We've been in Kansas for less than a month, and we've had three significant health crises already. And for once, it's not the usual suspects who are causing all the hullabaloo.
First, there was Bill...on the patio...with the ratchet.
Then on Thursday, our dog suffered a heat stroke. She had to be taken to the vet and given an ice bath and an IV and kept overnight for observation. Really, we're not bad pet owners. She had been in the A/C all morning and had plenty of water. Bill played fetch with her for about 15 minutes when she started returning r e a l l y s l o w l y. He brought her in, and within 10 minutes we had called the vet, determined she needed help and gotten her out the door. Even the vet was surprised, since we moved here from Virginia and not someplace routinely cooler. Since dogs, and humans, are more susceptible to heat stroke if it's happened before, and since we haven't owned her for her entire life, I suspect that this wasn't the first time. Now we know: absolutely no exercise during the heat of the day, which is basically from dawn to dusk around here right now.
And then last night, I missed the bottom step on the way down, just like I did over a year ago. This time, it's my right foot and not my left that is sprained. And I was such a baby. I cried, in part because of the pain, but mostly because I was so mad at myself, and I think sobbing is more ladylike than throwing a temper tantrum. Then I had to ask Bill to get me the tissues, and to have to ask him to wait on me, and especially to have to ask him to get me tissues because I was crying only made me cry more and tell him I was pathetic.
"You're not pathetic," he comforted. "At least you didn't hit yourself in the head with a ratchet. That's pathetic."
And that made me laugh, because, well, that is pathetic. He's always got to top me, that husband.