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the bat, the knee, the bicycle helmet, the husband and Dick, the doctor
Rachel reminded me that I raised this topic in the comments here, but didn't tell the story. So here it is. Settle in, children.
Imagine, if you will, an evening in the fall. Here in the Pacific Northwest the weather is cool but pleasant, and it's dark at seven.
My husband the oh so logical mathematician (remember this for later in the story, please) is in the habit of going to a local brew pub to meet a friend, every Wednesday evening. They drink beer and play darts. On this particular Wednesday evening, the husband decides to ride his bike into town rather than driving. This is so he can drink more beer, of course. He is not only logical, but responsible. He takes off on his bike, headed for what we call the interurban bike trail. It leads from out here in the country all the way into town, and rarely has anything to do with a road where cars have to be considered. Generally very safe, if a little spooky at night. Imagine a trail through the woods, overhung with trees.
Ten o'clock. I am sewing, with my feet up and the dogs draped across my legs. I hear the garage opening: husband home from the Wednesday night outing. He comes in, and stands next to my chair. The fiddly bit of sewing in my hands prevents me from looking up.
Have a nice time?I look up and see that his pant leg is bloody from the knee down to the shoe. Really bloody. I leap out of the chair and into action, and as a part of that, ask a lot of questions of the what - where - how variety.
Mmmmm, well. I've had better.
He is very calm, in spite of the fact that his knee -- visible once I have stripped him down to his skivvies -- is swollen to twice its normal size. He hit a pothole on the way home. He managed to get home, so the knee isn't broken, but it sure looks bad.
I am peering and prodding and dabbing.
I think we have to go to the emergency room. Or at least I have to call the doctor.I sit down while he tells the story. Riding along the interurban, minding his own business, a bat landed on his head and bit him. Or scratched him. Hard to tell the difference. Blood was let, in any case. I consider searching his scalp for the evidence, and decide this is beyond my expertise. And, a question has occured to me.(nonchalantly) oh, and something else: I got bit by a bat on the head.
You weren't wearing your helmet.Fast forward to me on the phone with the emergency room nurse:Um, no.
So that's when you fell off the bike?
Oh, no. The bat bit me on the way to town. I hit the pothole on the way back.
Hold on. Let me see if I understand. On the way to town, while riding your bike -- without a helmet-- a bat bit you on the head. And you went on to drink beer and play darts.
Yes, that's right.
Okay. And on the way home you hit a pothole and did this to your knee.
Yes, right again. But I was wearing my helmet on the way home.
In case the bat was lying in wait, hoping for another chomp?
Something like that.
...it's very swollen, but it doesn't seem to hurt him much.When I got off the phone with a plan (to call our doctor first thing in the morning about the knee and the bat and the bite on the head), the husband was deeply asleep with his swollen knee up on a pillow. The beer, I think, or all the excitement.it sounds like a large hematoma. That could wait until tomorrow morning, if you call your doctor first thing. I didn't tell you this, by the way, because we're not allowed to make any kind of diagnosis on the phone.
So while you're not telling me things, I should mention that he also got bit on the head by a bat.
[pause]
Maybe you better start from the beginning.
.... and then he came home.
Wait. Let me get this straight. He got bit on the head by a bat...
...and went on to the brew pub to meet his friend for beer and darts.
He does know that bats are often rabid?
He figured it could wait until tomorrow. I suppose he's a little jaded. He's had the rabies series before.
Do tell.
A feral cat scratched him.
Where?
On the arm.
No, I mean, where was he?
Greece.
Huh. When was this?
A long time ago. When he was in college.
And they gave him the rabies series in Greece?
They gave him the rabies series, but not in Greece, in England.
How did England get into the story?
He's English.
So he's visiting here? Maybe he should go home for the rabies series this time too.
No, he lives here. He's been here for twenty years.
Okay, so listen. He's out drinking beer, do you think maybe he imagined the bat?
No, he didn't imagine the bat. The bat bite was before the beer. The knee was after the beer, but he didn't imagine that either, because I'm looking at the knee.
Have you looked at the bite?
Must I?
This is the strangest phone call I've had in a while.
Imagine how I feel.
The next morning we called the doctor's office and spoke to Sue, Meg and Dick's nurse. The conversation with the emergency room nurse pretty much repeated itself, after which the husband went in to be seen.
Dick let the blood out of his knee and looked at his scalp, and Sue looked at his scalp, and then they called the Health Department and the Health Department wanted to see him, and they all looked at his scalp, and then he was sent to the emergency room, more looking at the scalp, including by the nurse I hadn't talked to the night before.
Finally they gave him the first round of rabies shots, and he had to go in every week for four or five more rounds of shots, I forget now, because to tell the truth, I really didn't want to know.
So that's the bedtime story, complete with a moral, which I don't think I have to spell out.
September 19, 2005 10:07 PM
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Comments
That story is an absolute cracker! I'm sure the logical mathematician husband will never live it down ;-)
Posted by: alyssa at September 19, 2005 10:57 PM
Sara? Thank you for making me spit out my morning coffee.
:-)
Posted by: Beth at September 20, 2005 04:54 AM
Actually, I think you may need a Moral Contest. Because I think there are more than a few morals embedded in that fine narrative. (C.f., when "Fatal Attraction" was hot, a friend said there needed to be a booth at the exit for the Essay Question... and any male who said the Moral had been "Don't ever use your real name when you meet women at conventions" would have to go watch the movie again until he Got It.)
Posted by: robyn at September 20, 2005 05:23 AM
That is the funniest story I have heard in a very long time. I'm pretty sure this will make my hubby feel better about some of the goofy things he has done. Maybe it really only makes me feel better to realize I am not the only one with a husband who does these things.
Posted by: Bugg at September 20, 2005 12:09 PM
I'm very glad he's going to be okay, but I'm still not clear as to the "logic" behind the argument that he could drink more beers if he's riding a bike (on which one has to balance as well as steer) than if he's driving a car ...?
Posted by: murgatroyd at September 20, 2005 02:38 PM
... (or is the pothole the answer to my question?)...
Posted by: murgatroyd at September 20, 2005 02:42 PM
murgie, old pal: calm logic in the face of a bite on the head by a bat is the only way I can explain his deciding to go on with his evening's plans. I should have included that bit.
Me: You decided to go ahead into town for beer and darts while bat-saliva and blood was dripping from your scalp?
Him: why not?
Posted by: sara at September 20, 2005 03:06 PM
Thanks for the story Sara - no doubt more fun in hindsight for all concerned.
And I think I can see the logic (male) in there somewhere.
Posted by: Alison at September 20, 2005 05:49 PM
Or perhaps it's the "He's english" part that partially explains the stoic attitude in the face of unusual circumstances? Something to be said for the anglo-saxon 'Carry On,' eh? And doesn't ale cure all?
But I agree - riding a bike while impaired is never truly a good idea, only an alternate idea, particularly where trees and darkness are involved. It's just so crazy!
Posted by: Pam at September 20, 2005 11:00 PM
The moral has to be a bad pun featuring "bats" and "knees" and "beer" and maybe "coming and going"...
Wow. The man knows how to live!
Posted by: Kate R at September 21, 2005 05:47 AM