LOL Sjoerd, growing up in the southern hills, the middle child of 7, I had to be tough. We only saw a doctor if a bone was broken or we suffered from a life threatening disease. Once my older sister and I ran toward school because it was cold. I fell, struck my head on a flat stone. The next thing I knew we had walked the near mile and I regained consciousness . We never bothered telling our parents. That sounds like a dumb thing now, but I wasn't bleeding, so we ignored it.
What a story, GP. It sounds like a sort of concussion. I feel like you were lucky with that one. Glad you made it though.
Chapeau GP. Well, it is my experience that one does not have to go right away to the doc with every single thing. I come from a family of tough-o's. They were farmers and never sought help with medical things, except of course if there was a tractor accident or if an arm got pulled-off in a hay bailer..that sort of serious thing.
LOL Sjoerd, you may not have meant it to be hilarious, but here am I laughing out loud over an arm being pulled off in the hay baler. Why oh why must I laugh at serious stuff.
GrowingPains--it is a hilarious incident...but true. The armless farmer was my great uncle. He lived through it. He was out bailing in a field and the baler hung up...so he went to unclog the mechanics and ...BINGO ! it began working and in a second, the arm got sucked in, torn off and cauterized. All in the blink of an eye he said. He had to walk a pair kilometres to get help, was taken to the hospital. He was lying on the gurney with an iv and the doc came in, looked down at him and he told the nurse to get him cleaned up. A few minutes later the doc returned and looked at the chart and the chest and socket where the arm once was. My uncle's chest was covered with scars. He had been shot several times whilst fighting the germans during the second world war. The doc went pale and had to hold on to the gurney rail and said to my uncle...."I know you`. My uncle said that he knew him as well and suggested that he get on with the `first aid`. They talked bout the days back during the war and how close he had come to dying. The doc asked him how he had managed to get to the hospital and he told him. The doc just shook his head. He went on to say that he had treated a young soldier decades ago, He said that he had given my uncle little hope of surviving the serious chest wounds but he had...And there they were, the two--doctor and patient years and years later. What a small world. But the scenario of loosing an arm in a hay baler is one for a comedy movie isn´t it.
Sjoerd, I cannot believe I laughed at this true story. Your uncle must be the toughest man ever. Is he still living?
No GP, he is no longer with us. No worries though---it was a wildly fantastic story that was funny to look back on.--Like something out of a film or something.
Oh Sjoerd, how I enjoy your writing, and stories. Glad you made it through your move and are now settled in to the new abode. Having lived 35 years in the same place there is little chance of me ever having to go through the moving experience. My son will have to go through all trouble of decluttering when the time comes.
I really enjoyed this thread. From the horrors of moving to all the changes of subjects. Your story, Sjoerd, about your uncle reminded of my mother talking about her father and she would say "back when a man was a MAN"!
I am really glad that you liked the posting, JEWELL-- Well, I find your home and grounds so lovely, that I cant imagine that you would even WANT to ever move. You and your man have it all just like you want it ...more or less, right. Thanks 2OF--Heh, heh, heh. Yes, I believe that men and women were indeed physically stronger in years gone by...but a mental toughness sitll does prevail in these modern times, in spite of the relative comfort. You are so very right, GP.
Jewell, I'm fascinated with the "Smoke Room.". The chairs look rather elegant for serving in a "Smoke Room", but hey, comfort is a necessity.
