Trish’s Blog

Yes. I did. It’s the pad of my middle finger on my right hand. It means that it is taking me forever to type this post. It hurt so bad when I did it, too. I was trying to grasp the safe part of the food processor blade and reached a little too far and with a little too much gusto. I was immediately angry for being so dumb. I was just getting ready to wash the dishes, too. So now they are just sitting there… and I can’t do anything. Well, I shouldn’t complain. My youngest brother got stabbed on Saturday.

Now that you’ve recovered from the shock of that sentence, take a deep breath because he’s OK. When I first heard the news I was instantly transported to when he was a baby and used to laugh at me doing carthwheels, and it wasn’t a full grown adult with big muscles that I was picturing someone hurting. It was my little brother in diapers, and I wanted to hurt someone. How could they do that? Why was he fighting?

My oldest brother told me that Shawn was at a party and saw a friend getting a knife put to his neck and tried to stop the bad guy. He got stabbed in the chest below his collar bone and had a bottle crashed over his head. So basically, my brother’s a hero. I thought of how River Phoenix’s character met his demise in the movie Stand By Me and I told Shawn no more fights with guys with knives. He said he had to because no one was helping his friend. Well, OK, then. As long as it’s not over something really, really pointless. His friend visited Shawn in the hospital to thank him for saving his life.

I’m glad that he’s alright. He’s very lucky. He had surgery to stop the bleeding, had to stay overnight at the hospital, and the doc reported no nerve damage or major arteries severed. Now he’s at home taking it easy and popping Vicodin like Dr. House. They caught the bad guy who has already been to jail twice so I guess he’s going back in… at least my family can feel that justice will be done and let the police do their jobs.

The part that kills me is that Shawn didn’t even feel it. The only way he knew something was wrong was the guy he was punching was getting covered with his blood everytime he swung. Ugh.

My brother takes on an evil bad guy, saves somebody’s life, and doesn’t feel a thing. I get licked by my food processor cutting mushrooms for spaghetti, and it hurt so much I had to be babied by my husband. Josh got out the neosporin and the band-aids, dodged some ill placed comments by me, and still sat close by and reassured me that everything was going to be OK. He’s right. I’ll live.

Posted on August 27th, 2008 by trish
Filed under: Family