Michael Wilcox, Publisher/Editor
Some days I wonder why I even get out of bed. The daily grind sometimes leaves me wishing I were resting in a world of dreams rather than tackling the problems of the real world. Then I think about my sister and what she dealt with last week, and slap myself in the face for feeling sorry for myself.
My sister was out walking her small dog, Kola, when she stepped in to a yellow jacket hole. Out came the angry bees, stinging my sister and her dog in several areas. But to make matters worse, she was lying on the ground writhing in pain. She had fallen awkwardly and her right arm was dangling in an unusual way. When her husband got her to an emergency room it was determined to be broken and she was placed in a cast for several weeks.
All my brothers and sisters have an amazing work ethic. A broken arm wasn’t going to stop my sister from showing up to work the next day. Doctor’s orders or not, she had to be at work. It’s just the way she is.
The rest of the week went without incident- that is until Friday. I received an email from my brother-in-law. In part it said, “you won’t believe what happened to my wife, today.” He was right, it was rather unbelievable.
As the person in charge of inventory, including uniforms, guns, ammunition, vehicles and anything else related to law enforcement, my sister has a demanding position at state police headquarters. On Friday an auditor was at headquarters, to count all the guns and ammo that was in inventory.
All seemed to be going well when the auditor all of a sudden seemed to have some type of seizure. He rocked backwards, and right behind him was my sister. Because of her position she was able to break his fall, but unfortunately she fell head first into a pallet of ammunition.
There she was for a second time in a week on the ground- or in this case lodged in a pile of ammunition, writhing in pain. She was bleeding profusely from the head and there was great concern that a serious injury had occurred.
The ambulance arrived, gingerly placed her on a stretcher and sped off to the hospital. The diagnosis was a re-broke arm and a half dozen large stitches in the head. At first glimpse her head was an awful mess but once they were able to stop the bleeding, the gash wasn’t as bad as first thought.
Fortunately it wasn’t all that serious, and we now can joke about her week of bad luck. Some of us can say we have been injured by bullets, but very few of us can claim to have been injured by a pile of bullets that weren’t fired. Her husband, the jokester he is, is doing all he can from keeping her home from work, having bought a strait jacket and dead bolt locks to keep her in the house.