Archive for the ‘screaming’ Category

It Started with a Text Message

March 10, 2010 by Joe

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Tunnel vision, in medical terms, is the loss of peripheral vision with retention of central vision, resulting in a constricted circular tunnel-like field of vision. In layman’s terms, something has drawn your focus and you see nothing else. When you hit a patch of ice, sending your car on an intersecting path with a telephone pole, you don’t see the field or the cows or the barn. You only see the immovable object that will shortly send you and your family to the hospital. That is tunnel vision.

On a very recent afternoon, I walked out of a business meeting feeling very well about it. As I retreived my phone to turn the ringers on again, I looked first to the icons on the screen. One missed call and two text messages. The missed call was from Sarah. Of course, I thought nothing of it. I usually talk with her and/or Tyler a few times a day. Mostly because Sarah needs to tell me a funny story about our little man, or she’s taking dinner requests (yeah, she’s that awesome, even though I usually leave it up to her judgment), or because Tyler misses his daddy and wants to say “hi.” I pressed the left convenience key on the phone to open up my messages. I didn’t remember stopping in the middle of the parking lot, unable to visually process anything except the first text message. I do remember my next breath because it burned when my diaphragm hitched.

911. Please call.

I’ve always told Sarah to send me a text message if there was ever an emergency. It seems that text messages and emails always come through my phone, even when I have no cell signal. If I miss a phone call while I’m in an area with no service, I’ll never know you called unless you leave a voicemail. And even then, the voicemail notification doesn’t show up until I’ve been in a service area for a while. A text message sits on the airwaves for up to three days, waiting for the phone to turn on or enter a service area. So, I explained to Sarah that with all the driving I do to sometimes very rural areas, a text mesage is the most reliable way to reach me, especially in an emergency. I also never answer the phone when I’m in front of a customer, but I do glance at the screen when messages come in. Just. In. Case.

And here I was, three hours from home, looking at a text message that I’ve never seen before. My initial reaction was one of confusion. Pure confusion.

And then, fear.

I pressed and held the “S” button on my phone, the screen read “Calling Sarah… Connected.” My earpiece beeped twice, signalling that it was connected, via bluetooth, to my phone, and then began ringing in my ear. I viewed the second text message as my earpiece rang a second time.

She picked up before the third ring. I inquired almost before Sarah could finish saying “hello.”

After the last few months of cold and dreary weather, the 40ºf (4ºc) temperature this particular afternoon felt very nice. Sarah, Tyler, and Delilah all walked to the park to play in the mild weather. Some previous park-goers left a basketball there. While playing with this basketball, Tyler fell hard, and face-first, on the concrete. He began screaming before even attempting to raise his head. Sarah ran to Tyler as he lifted his head.

“Joe, there was blood everywhere.”

She carried him to the stroller in a run, remaining calm on the exterior, for Tyler. Internally, every other bad feeling and emotion swirled violently. Tyler continued to scream while blood flowed down his face. Sarah opened her water bottle and poured it on his face, hoping to both see the wound and gauge its severity. His nose and uper lip were were lacerated. She watched his upper lip inflate as more blood flowed from inside Tyler’s mouth. Delilah thought she was in trouble when Sarah yelled at her to “come,” and was slow and hesitant in returning. Very quickly, she leashed Delilah and buckled Tyler in his stroller. The trek home was paced somewhere between a speedwalk and a jog. She very desperately wanted to break into a full run, but that would allow the panic overtake the control she was barely able to keep a grasp onto. Knowing she was completely helpless for the moment, Sarah could do nothing more than mentally run through scenarios and options, and tell Tyler that he would be okay.

Sarah finished her story as I drove. They were presently snuggling together on the couch, watching Bolt, while Sarah held an ice pack to Tyler’s mouth. The bleeding was under control shortly after they arrived home. Tyler cut the inside of his lip really bad, but not stitches-worthy. His nose and the area under was also scraped and cut. All that in addition to a very swollen lip made a very sad sight. I pushed and pulled on his teeth when I got home that evening, to make sure he didn’t knock them loose. Tyler pointed to his lip (as if I wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise) and said “ouch.”

The next morning, I deleted the two texts.

911. Please call
Nevermind. I think we’re ok.

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The Journey Towards Boyhood

April 3, 2009 by Joe

Yesterday, Tyler took some additional steps on the pathway towards boyhood.

Sarah and I decided to put a garden in this year. We have a decent sized yard, so we measured out a six foot by twenty-four foot area for the garden. The neighbor told us that the ground in their yard was very rocky, so they built a raised garden. I’m a fan of learning from the mistakes of others, so we decided on a raised garden as well. I purchased the lumber and cut it to size two weeks ago.

The frame of the garden.
 
The frame would be built with two inch thick by eight inch high wood. After making the box, I would cut a bunch of 2x4s two foot in length, and make points on one end of them, effectively making wooden stakes. It was while making the stakes that the first accident happened. Those that follow me on Twitter and Facebook already know what transpired. In the monotony of cutting, turning the saw off, removing the scrap wood, and turning the saw on again, at one point I forgot the crucial step of killing the power before reaching into the saw for the scrap wood. The pain I felt as the blade tore into the flesh of my thumb was immense.

I’ve often wondered how one could make a stupid mistake with a power tool that would result in a missing digit. Well, it seemed that fate aimed to satisfy my curiosity on that day. Now, I couldn’t tell you if it was divine intervention, pure luck, or super-human reflexes that saved me from going on a scavenger hunt for my thumb, but I was saved the trauma of a self amputation. I yanked my hand back with a speed I was unaware of being capable of. The resultant injury was a gash the width of a circular saw blade, and about as thick. And a lot of blood, but I finished the frame. 

 
The next step was to lie cardboard and newspaper down,to act as a weed barrier and organic material for the soil. We did this yesterday before the seven tons of soil delivered. While we did this, Tyler took the opportunity to try to eat rocks and gravel.

My garden helpers.

Tyler helped.

Here’s what 14 THOUSAND pounds of dirt looks like.

Barely made a freaking dent in the mountain of dirt.

The garden itself only needed five tons of dirt to fill it. The additional two tons would be used to level the ground in the yard. We had some bushes removed last year which left divots and dips in the ground. And the truck that delivered the dirt was quite heavy as well, leaving two-inch deep tire marks in the lawn that needed to be filled.

As I shoveled away at the mountain of dirt, Sarah, Tyler and Delilah had a picnic outside to keep me company. Delilah found a stick and obviously had some pent-up energy to get out. She began running laps around the garage. I have honestly never seen a dog that could run as fast as she can; it’s unnatural and freakish to watch. She came tearing around the corner, full tilt and must not have seen where she was going. Delilah plowed into Tyler and sent him rolling across the yard. It was very surreal for a moment, and I found myself asking if that really just happened. Delilah knew she was in trouble. She lay down and rolled onto her back when I roared her name. The fury I felt almost overtook the fear I felt for Tyler. Almost. Her submissive action probably saved her life just then; it’s one of her endearing qualities, and cemented my initial belief that it was a complete accident. Although I’m sure shock played a part of it, I’ve no doubt that Tyler’s screams were those of pain, and I ran to him and Sarah.

Sarah held Tyler tight against her body as he screamed, telling him everything was ok, and it was an accident. Tyler was facing the opposite direction. I ran around Sarah so that he could see my face while I comforted him. His eyes were tightly shut with tears running down his face, and…

"He’s bleeding," I said urgently.

"Oh Jesus," Sarah said, pulling Tyler away from her so we could get a better look at him. He had a stream of blood coming from his nose. Panicked, we ran into the house. Delilah never budged.

Tyler screamed even louder when we tried washing the blood off his face. Whether it was from pain or the fact that he doesn’t like getting his face washed, I’m not sure. Either way, it hurt me in the heart to see Tyler in pain. I held Tyler while Sarah attempted to put a cold pack on his nose, which he definitely did not enjoy. He finally calmed enough for us to give him a quick "once over". He had a bump on his head, and his nose wasn’t broken. As a matter of fact, it had stopped bleeding. Sarah took him into the other room to give him the only pain reliever that is guaranteed to work… cuddles on the couch.

I went back outside to tell Delilah that I knew it was an accident, but that she has to keep her eyes on Tyler’s level now and not up in the air at Sarah and I. Then I went back to shoveling before the forecasted rain could make it to our home. Shortly thereafter, Tyler went up for a nap. Sarah came out and helped me with some shoveling and wheelbarrowing. Sarah had the forethought to open the second level windows so we could hear Tyler when he woke up.

Five hours of shoveling and elbow grease later.
 
When he did, Sarah brought him outside again to show him the garden. He grabbed a handful of dirt and tried to eat it. Sarah grabbed his hand and said something like "ucky, Tyler." Tyler grabbed another handful, and Sarah intercepted its path to his mouth as well. And this is when I saw the devious side of Tyler. He grabbed another handful of dirt, but this time used the other hand – the one that Sarah couldn’t see – and put it in his mouth. He reached for more dirt when I said "Other hand, Sarah."

Eating rocks and dirt, check. Bloody nose, check. All this before he’s walking, no less. What’s next on the boyhood checklist, eating worms, sticking a metal object in a wall outlet, or trying to cram a sandwich into the DVD player? Care to guess which two of those three things I’ve done? I’ll give you a hint, we didn’t have a DVD player when I was a child.

Note: The next project will be putting up a 6 foot tall privacy fence so that we don’t have to look at the poorly maintained yard next door.

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Farmer Brown is a drunken A-hole

September 18, 2008 by Joe

*sigh* Ya know, things can escalate and get out of hand pretty quickly in the Gearhart household.

Everything you are about to read is completely true, and really did happen last night.

*Reenactment*
This is the Brown Farm

This is the Brown farm. It is run by Farmer Brown. I was catching up on a couple blogs last night (I’ve been slacking, I know), while Sarah and Tyler were on the floor, playing with the Brown farm and Farmer Brown (Sarah and Tyler chose that name earlier). They were having a good time when Sarah says to me, “feel free to join us down here.”

If any of us had any idea what would happen as a result of that statement, she would have opted, instead, to say nothing! I’m sure of this.

So I get down on the floor and start moving the animals around. One of the first things I notice is that the chicken is HUGE! It’s the same size as the horse!

“What kind of farm are you running here?” I asked Farmer Brown.

*Reenactment*
Say “HI” to Farmer Brown

This is Farmer Brown. As I was “walking” him across his farm, he got stuck on the velcro that holds the animals in place. In a high-pitched Farmer Brown voice, I said, “Help me. Help Meeeeeeeeeeee.”, and I shook him back and forth.

In a throwback to Knight Rider, I added, “Kitt, I need help.”

Sarah manned the tractor and backed it up to Farmer Brown, presumably, to hook a tow line to him and pull him out. I completely misunderstood the intention, because there is something wrong with my head.

I asked Sarah, “What exactly are you making that tractor do to Farmer Brown, sicko?”

Traumatized, Farmer Brown walked to the back of the farm and said, “I need a drink”.

At this point, Sarah and I were cracking up. Tyler was lying on the floor between us, but he was no longer a part of this. Sarah and I were playing with tiny, stuffed toys, and it was a riot.

*Reenactment*
Farmer Brown had a few too many

Then, Farmer Brown came back. He stumbled back towards the farm, speaking jibberish. In my best Farmer Brown voice, I said, “Ooom uuuhlll flubber fack uuuuhhhh chicken dagnab mutant blargh.”

With my almighty hand, I guided Farmer Brown towards the chicken.

*Reenactment*
Farmer Brown sneaks up on a chicken

I snuck Farmer Brown up behind the chicken. At this point, there were no longer any streams of thought in my head. Things were happening wholly on their own.

Farmer Brown crowed, “Damn chicken!”

*Reenactment*
“Damn Chicken!”

Farmer Brown threw his leg forward and launched the chicken into the air.

*Reenactment*
The chicken flies

There was no arc to its flight path. The chicken launched and soared like a missle.

In his drunken stupor, Farmer Brown failed to make himself aware of his surroundings, or where the chicken’s tragectory may take it.

*Reenactment*
LOOK OUT!

Following the law named for Edward Murphy, the chicken popped Sarah directly in her eye.

Farmer Brown, along with the hand controlling him, were scared. Naturally, he hightailed it out of there.


*Reenactment*
Farmer Brown hightails it

Farmer Brown is not a fast runner.

*Reenactment*
Farmer Brown finds an escape

Knowing that he wouldn’t stand a chance against Sarah on foot, he hopped onto his tractor.

*Reenactment*
“RRRRRRRRrrrrRRRuuuuuUUUUuuumMMMmmmMMMMM”

Luckily for him, the tractor fired right up. I displayed my horrible ability to make sound effects with my mouth. Making my best impression of a tractor, I growled, “RRRRRRRRrrrrRRRuuuuuUUUUuuumMMMmmmMMMMM.” He dropped it into gear, and nailed the throttle. The front wheels left the ground. The rear tires broke traction…

and this is where things went HORRIBLY wrong…

*Reenactment*
Joe goes too far

Trying my best to emulate the sound of tires screeching, I put my voice up a few octaves to a “shrill” level and bellowed, “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!”

Guided by my hand, the tractor – along with Farmer Brown – tore off into the distance and to safety.

Very quietly, Sarah says, “Uh oh.”

I look back to her and see that she is looking at Tyler, quite apprehensively…

*Reenactment*
Tyler reacts
(Sorry, I don’t have any recent pics of Tyler screaming)

Turns out, my screeching tire impression scared the jeepers out of Tyler, causing him to begin screaming his head off. It took a long time… a LONG TIME to calm him back down. We’re talking about 45 minutes. He was over-tired anyway (didn’t nap at all yesterday), so I’m sure that added to it.

Needless to say, Brown Farm playtime was over. We put Tyler to bed soon after that. I looked at Sarah and said “We need to reenact this, so I can get some pictures.”

We had a lot of fun with the reenactment. We constantly found ourselves stifling laughter, for fear of waking Tyler up.

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Sleep? I remember that word.

July 2, 2008 by Joe

The picture above is of Tyler yawning. I figured it was appropriate for this post, even though Sarah and I are the ones doing the yawning.

My son isn’t doing such a hot job of realizing that nighttime is for sleeping and daytime is for being awake. He likes to sleep during the day, and scream during the night.

We were finally discharged from the hospital yesterday afternoon, after 6 days there. Sarah kinda went downhill on Monday afternoon, into Tuesday. Nothing to get worried about, but she was having lots of intense pain as a result of the C-Section. I actually caught a glimpse of the surgery. After Tyler was “born” I went to the other side of the room with him and our midwife, Michelle. I looked back to Sarah a few times and would say things like, “He’s got your cheeks”, or, “He’s beautiful”.

Well, the last time I looked over, I turned a little too far to the right and caught a glimpse of her midsection. It’s something you never, never, never want to see happening to someone you love. The word “C-Section” is thrown around too casually now. A very close friend hit the nail on the head by saying “It is MAJOR ABDOMINAL SURGERY”.

Anyway, the couple days following the surgery were very, very painful for Sarah. The Percocet only took the edge off the pain, but it was still there. You top that all with the fact that it was a very less-than-ideal weekend, and you have a girl that was just emotionally spent. She just wanted to give up, and that was hard to watch.

We had high hopes of walking out of the hospital yesterday, but she was in too much pain. Sarah ended up being wheeled down in a wheelchair. She could barely walk up the stairs in the house. If she sat down for more than 5 minutes, she couldn’t stand back up. It quite literally took her 10 minutes to get off the couch yesterday. It’s very horrible. We know that everything that happened was completely necessary, but that doesn’t make the recovery any easier.

So, last night was our first night at home with Tyler. My goodness. I don’t know how often he was up. I was so tired, that it was too depressing to look at the clock… so I didn’t. Finally, at 5am, I grabbed him, came downstairs, and closed all the doors between Sarah and us. I wanted Sarah to get at least some sleep. I ended up in the computer room. I looked at Tyler and told him that he was just going to have to cry it out. He had just been fed and changed, so now he needed to sleep. I just sat there and held him for about 20 minutes of screaming. No tears, just screaming. And he had no interest, at all, in the pacifier. Then… he just fell asleep. After another 20 minutes, I figured he was out for a while. I went into the living room, lied down on the couch with Tyler on my chest, and fell asleep for 2 hours. It was a glorious 2 hours. Sarah finally came down, very happy to have gotten 3 hours of sleep.

And guess what? We get to do it all again, because he is screaming his head off even as I finish this last sentence…

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