My old friend Ron fell off his cottage roof on Wednesday. The universal first response to this event has been, "Well, yes." Ron LIVES. Every doggone day.
After a hard landing, it took him a little bit of time to regain consciousness and talk. Always the optimist, when he came to he said, "Don't call the ambulance."
So now he's in ICU up at Memorial. Several broken ribs, broken collarbone, crushed vertebrae. The surgeons fused his spine back together yesterday. He'll be wearing a turtle suit for awhile. He'll have to put off finishing his RN degree for a year.
I would send flowers, but I know his preference would be a bottle of Scotch.
3 comments:
Wow. If he had fallen off of my roof (which has been called a cottage) it wouldn't have been much of a fall. Fusing the spine just doesn't sound like a lot of fun.
Yeah. He's pushing 60, too. I'm anxious to see him in person, but that will have to wait until he's out of ICU.
so send him the bottle of scotch. Next time my girlfriend goes into labor I'm smuggling all the food she wants into the delivery room.
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