Never a winning combination

Boy + pets + glass. Just doesn't work.

A bit over a year ago I was in a mercy dash to the Minor Injuries Unit, following an unsuccessful attempt to feed cats out of a glass jar. Yesterday it was the Fish's turn to sample the Boy's unique way with glassware, ending with a broken bowl, fish (unharmed) confined to a small plastic box with an inch of water, and a chunk missing from Boy's thumb. Not a big chunk in proportion to an entire human body but, as a percentage of an average thumb, quite noticeable. And leaking of red stuff.

Best Beloved did the first Minor Injuries Unit dash yesterday afternoon; I did the second at around 9pm when blood started showing through the bandages again. Which meant watching most of Hustle in the waiting room (which despite earlier reservations I have to admit to starting to enjoy), then waiting a further 20 minutes in a cubicle while staff battled to save the life of a man the other side of the curtain. His symptoms were: dizziness, white as a sheet, hardly any blood pressure, faint pulse, vomiting blood. Even I could guess some fairly major internal bleeding into the stomach. His version: he felt fine (apart from the dizziness), his stomach only hurt because he'd been lying on his front and he'd been already been told by his doctor that it would always be hard to read his blood pressure because of the aneurysm ... "But I don't need to go to the bloody hospital!"

Ho hum.

This rather dents the plans for sailing this coming weekend ... They may proceed, minus Boy, in some altered form. Or not. To be continued.