Accident, Again.....

Well, we spent our weekend in the ERs. First our local ER, then Fresno's ER. It's just an hour North, but they wanted us to seek better care. If you're apart of our kid's texting network, then you've got the scoop minute by minute. But, for those of you not in that loop here's what happened: Danny and Kyle were working in our shop, moving a large piece of 1" metal on the plasma table. It was afternoon Sat. about 100* plus in the shop, and the metal needed to be shifted. The metal got away from the guys, coming down on Kyle's hands as he pulled away quickly his right index finger got caught underneath. He's not sure how the metal gave way to his finger, he thinks it may have 'hopped' before it landed again. But, the damage was done: it cut through Kyle's glove; breaking and severing his finger just between the lower two knuckles. Now, if you don't know what a plasma table is, the table has metal runners about 1/4" thick, so the effect of the metal on top is like a guillotine to the finger when the metal came down on it...... uuugghhhh! So, Danny hurried him to our ER, calling me on the way, and Danielle & I met up with them. They pulled and tugged on his sore finger for x-rays and cleaning of the wound. Kyle's finger was just hanging on by about 10% of the skin. But, he had feeling in the tip of it, so they knew that the nerve was still intact. The local on-call surgeon and orthopedist wanted him to be seen by a hand specialist. So, we drove him to Fresno and had to go through the entire ER experience again. Kyle was given Morphine in Hanford's ER, which as most of you know makes a person a little edgy..... so, Danny had to stand with him outside, as all the 'sick' people and other ER visitors were taking up room. And Kyle, normally more tolerant wanted to "tell them off." But, soon we were seen and he had a cute nurse to care for him and give him Vicodin. Hours later the Hand Specialist from Plastic Surgery saw him. They admitted him around 4am planning to place a pin through his finger. In the meanwhile Danny's catching a few winks in the car, and I'm trying to sleep in a chair, then on the floor with my make-shift bed. At 9:30 they took him to pre-op, with the final decision being to stich up his finger and place a splint on him: keeping his fingers from bending. I think Hanford's ER could've done THAT! But, hey we just hope it's good enough. We were on our home by 1:00 which they told us was a short ER visit.... less than 24 hours was a good record for them. Apparently they wanted to get rid of us :) little tip for you all. "make them want to get rid of you" on your next ER visit. He's in good spirits, and yesterday spent most of the evening sleeping and catching up on all his missed calls/texts. It was great to have the support we had from our family and friends. Danny's nephew and sister came to lend some support in the Fresno's ER parking lot and our friends kept checking in on us..... thanks guys :) We have photos........... but, we'll spare you the gore. Maybe we'll send them out for Halloween. :) just kidding.

"Soundtrack of My Life"

I stumbled onto this English assignment that Danielle wrote. I hesitated to put it on my blog, for fear of embarrassing her if she ever found out that I shared it. But, then after reading through my nieces embarrassing stories about her girls, I thought, "it's fine" just because they're 3 and she's 17 what's the difference?!?!!

right....

keep in mind it's her rough draft, but as parents, it touched our hearts.

"Microphone, headphones, guitars, drums.....chaos; the soundtrack of my life. The soundtrack I've learned to love. Music is a huge part of my life, I've been surrounded by it ever since I can remember. With a music obsessed-ex-band member Dad, a church singing-piano playing mother, and with a recording studio in my backyard, I had opportunity waiting a few steps out my back door, but no nerve to take the shot. I always felt this unspoken pressure to perform, to take on music like the rest of my family, and to be the best. Growing up I never even attempted to express myself through music, for the fear of not being impressive enough. Still, I wanted to know the feeling of finishing a song, laying down a track, of just being comforted by my nail beds dragging across the strings of a guitar. Music; I saw it, heard it, I had learned it, but I wanted to feel.

I saw it; guitars hanging on the wall, the piano in my living room, the endless rows of buttons on the soundboard, but not a clue what to do with any of it. I saw my father playing his guitar on his chair in the living room, eyes close, head down. I remember wishing I could be like that. I saw my mother sit on the bench playing boring hymns, but she loved it just the same. I saw my brother dripping of sweat while pounding away on the drums. I saw my small fragile fingers struggle to stretch across the keys of a piano, but the calculated specks of black ink on wrinkle coffee stained paper, just didn't impress me. I wanted more, I wanted to find my getaway, I wanted freedom. I saw my acoustic guitar collecting dust as it hung on my wall, and decided to give it a shot.

I heard it; the "nail on the chalkboard" type of twangs of my ten year old fingers strumming across the strings of my Christmas present that year. Just like the first time I tried it, not much had changed. I knew for certain, I was no natural, but, in time I would learn. I began to practice more and more each day, learning new chords which were demonstrated on a poster found in my studio. I heard the chords come together, finally starting to sound a little like music, practicing every night as my fingertips ached while callouses were starting to form.

I had learned; I learned the chords, the scales, and how to put them together. I was becoming better at it. I began to express myself through my guitar. Writing songs; lyrics, chords, meaning. I was finally starting to understand what all this fuss was about. It was definitely starting to grow on my. I was able to turn to my guitar and music for comfort. I could play my guitar in times of struggle, insecurity, and happiness. My guitar was the ultimate way to express myself.

I feel it; I feel the freedom, the euphoria, the passion, when playing my guitar. I can't help but feel infinite while I strum the strings of my guitar. I feel the stubborn callouses on my fingertips, the chips in the wood of my guitar, the strings as they drag across my nail beds. I feel the guitar is my getaway, music is my getaway.

Music has defined me in a way. It is a part of who I am. I see the opportunity and blessings I have in my life, I see the notebook full of lyrics on my dresser, the tracks I finally got the courage to record. I hear the soundtrack that makes up my life, the songs that play n my head throughout the day, the chords as I strum my guitar. I have learned that life is short, take up opportunities while you can, it's okay to show some emotion, show that you care, express yourself. I feel the impact music has made on my life, that one decision, like one off note, can make all the difference, that I want the soundtrack of my life to be made by me, no one else."