The Life & Times of Finnegan Buckley The terribly exciting and ever expanding world of me, myself

Today started like any other day. Woke up about 6:30, had an english muffin with Dad. Mom came down after her shower and we waved goodbye to Dad about 8:15. About 2 hours later, all hell broke lose.

While Mom was making the bed I decided to explore her closet. Now understand, I’m not a closet novice, I have treked through closetville many times without incident. But, like many others, I lost concentration for just a second.

Wham, down I went like 31 pounds of limp toddler.

I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but it hurt. I’m not sure if my tooth went through my lip, or if I just bit it, but I do know I was losing blood at a rate that hasn’t been seen since Rocky II.

Mom picked me up and told me everything was going to be okay, but I wasn’t buying it.

We called Dad at work and asked him to come home. I think Mom was panicked.

Dad was home in about 20 minutes, by then blood had slowed from a gush to a slow seep. Dad suggested that Mom call the pediatrician and see what they suggested. Some sadist there thought a couple of stitches might be in order.

A few minutes later we were on our way to WakeMed Cary Emergency Room. Dad kept muttering about, “there goes three hours”.

When we got to the ER, we waited in the waiting room for a while with Jerry Springer blaring, and no toys.

Things actually moved along fairly quickly, we were in an exam room in about 30 minutes. That’s when they said something about “stitches” and disappeared. I was hoping that they forgot about us as we watched Tom & Jerry.

No such luck, nurse Ratched and her evil sidekick returned with a cart filled with instruments obviously taken from Saddam Hussein’s  torture chambers.

First they quietly sneaked me onto a baby papoose board. Then they wrap me up with the velcro until I was completely immobilized. As I waited for the water boarding to begin, I felt the male nurse hold my head steady, someone slipped a paper thing over my head with just an opening for my mouth, then, I’m told, a gigantic needle came towards my big, sore, swollen lip.

About 3 seconds after my bloody, cut, painful lip was stuck, and injected twice with a needle the size of a Louisville Slugger, I feel the tug of dissolving thread being pulled through it. In case I haven’t mentioned this yet… OUCH!

After what seemed an eternity, the blood soaked paper thingy was removed and I could see my parents standing there. Yup, just standing there. Not trying to stop the torture, not calling 911, just standing and watching.

I feared they were about to sell me into some Asian slave trade or something, but apparently they had finally snapped out of their funk, and now were all lovey-dovey. They asked the nurse for a Popsicle for me, but I was so traumatized I couldn’t even eat it.

I rode home in a state of semi-conciousness, sucking my thumb, with my green popsicle running down my arm, until I finally gave up and closed my eyes. It had been a tough morning and the only way to deal with it was to take a 3 hour nap.