Once Bitten, Twice Grateful

Thursday morning was typical in all respects. I got up at 5, had my coffee, threw on my running gear and headed out the door. I popped in my ear buds and began adjusting my iPod to the song I wanted as I slowly walked down the street. Then, out of nowhere, only two houses down from mine, I heard a woman scream, I looked up, and before I knew it, a big black dog had taken a healthy chunk out of my arm. I stood there stunned, holding my arm, as my neighbor said, "Are you OK? Are you OK?"

"He bit me! He broke the skin! I've never been bitten by a dog! Oh my God!" I think I said those four statements 15 times. I was completely stunned. She pulled me into her house and got a wet paper towel to clean the wound, which was dripping blood all over her floor as well as her other dog, which was white and sitting playfully underneath me. The drops of blood all over his back were a gruesome sight. After a few moments of her holding the towel to my arm, I came to my senses and told her I was going home. She was just as shocked as I was, and tried to offer me more first aid. I just wanted to be in my own place and come to grips with what had just happened.

I walked home, bandaged my arm and then headed back out for my run. By then, I was short on time, so I only ran about 20 minutes through town, thinking about the dog bite the entire time. Did she say, "I don't know what's gotten into him lately?" I think she did. I also know that it was not the first time that the dog has run through the yard towards me. There have been times I was walking with the boys and either my neighbor or her husband yelled after it to stop. It always stopped mid-yard before Thursday. But what if it hadn't? The area on my forearm where it bit me would be just at Jacob's eye level. What if it had bitten him in the face instead of me on the arm? Worse yet, what if it had gotten Andrew? A dog of that size could do serious long term damage to a toddler. I was resolved to contact her later in the day and nicely but firmly let her know that she better keep that dog restrained in the future. If one of my children were bitten by that animal, it would take much more than an apology to rectify the situation.

I returned from my run, avoiding her house completely, and got ready for work. I applied another bandage to the wound and headed out the door. I called my doctor and left a message explaining the situation around 8 a.m. By 830, I had bled through my second bandage and had blood dripping down my arm. When I removed the second bandage, the adhesive caught on the skin around the wound and I could see a perfect puncture wound, completely hollow under the top layer of skin, and completely separated from the sub layer of fat. It was about the diameter of a pencil. Yes, Greg was right, I thought. It probably needed stitches.

The doctor called me back around 930 and told me to head directly to the ER. I asked if I could finish out my work day and he said no. It needed tending to immediately. So, off I went to the local emergency room. They filed a complaint with the US Dept of Health, gave me a tetanus shot, cleaned the bite and gave me two stitches. After I got the stitches, I felt much better. As of today, the arm is swollen and tender, but not nearly as bruised as I expected it to be. All in all, the bulk of the issue is over for me. At least, I hope it is.

My neighbors stopped by last night to apologize again. They are considering putting the dog down, but he needs to remain alive and quarantined for at least 10 days to ensure that he does not have any illnesses that could have been passed along to me. We talked about the concerns regarding the dog's unpredictable temperament, and it seems that the neighbors are on the same page as Greg and I. They too are worried about the children in the neighborhood, and in their family. I don't envy them in this situation. For me the ordeal has come to a close, but they now have to make a heartbreaking decision about whether or not to keep their pet. As a pet owner myself, I can empathize. It's not an easy decision from their position. I wish them luck.

In the meantime, my thoughts have been wandering back to my time in the ER. Shortly after the nurse checked me in and gave me the tetanus shot, a man was brought into the ER having a heart attack. He had been doing yard work, had chest pain, and had his neighbor bring him in. His wife arrived shortly after the man. The nurse put the man in the bed on the other side of my curtain and began attending to him. My care was obviously put on hold, to care for the man with much bigger issues than my small dog bite. I couldn't help but listen to what was happening to the man. There was only a piece of cloth separating us. In fact, several times when the nurses and doctor frantically ran around the patient's bed, the curtain brushed my arm. I listened to the man first tell the nurse all of his information, then his voice weakened, and he said the pain was worsening. He was soft spoken and winded. His wife sat by his side and answered the questions that the man could no longer answer. He wanted to sit up, but his blood pressure was too low, and despite several requests, the doctor made him remain laying down. The nurse called the ambulance center and prepared for him to be transferred to Altoona Hospital, a bigger and better equipped cardiac center. As they were waiting for transportation, the man began to seize. The nurses shooed his wife away from his side and into the waiting room. His heart stopped and he stopped breathing. They shocked him, intubated him, and bag breathed for him. They continued CPR for about 30 minutes with various other interventions as well, but despite their efforts, he died.

It was an awful thing to listen to, the last moments of this man's life. It was fast. He didn't suffer long, I doubt he even had time to register the full extent of what was happening. I wondered while it was happening, if his soul was standing beside him, watching the vain interventions. I thought all day and night about him and his wife. I'm sure when they were having their coffee in the morning the thought that one of them would be dead by noon never crossed their minds. "What are you doing today, honey?" "Oh, just going to mow the lawn, water the flowers then maybe run to the bank. How about you?" I bet what started as any other day ended with its details permanently etched in his wife's mind.

Then there were his children. The wife tried to call the daughter several times, but couldn't get through. The son was out working on site at whatever job he had and the nurse had left a message for him to come to the hospital asap. Neither made it in before their father died He was one year younger than my father, 70. I couldn't help but think about how his children would feel, knowing that they didn't quite make it to their father's side. What were their last interactions with him? What were my last interactions with my own father? How would I feel knowing I just couldn't make it in time to say good bye?

I couldn't wait to go home and just be with my own family. We all know that anything could happen to any of us on any given day, but to live with those thoughts would be all but crippling, too depressing to carry with us all of the time. Sometimes, we get a glaring sign from God, a wake up and be grateful kind of shout-out to us, which snaps us from taking the mundane for granted. Its important to simply cherish that morning cup of coffee, to always kiss your children good bye, and to be aware of our choice of wording with one another. A dog bite, in the grand scheme of things, is no big deal, just a tiny blemish on a day which was otherwise beautiful opportunity to thank God for the ones I love.