Ever get one of those phone calls that stops you cold? I was out shopping for a new computer for the tattoo shop when the cellphone rings. It’s the Husbear—wanting to know where I am, and telling me he is bleeding badly and needs to be taken to hospital. I was about 15 minutes away from him. I asked him if he was okay to drive to the clinic in town. He said he could, and I told him I would meet him there. Then he hung up.

At this point, I don’t know what is wrong, other than he is bleeding badly. Which has to be bad because the Husbear is a stubborn mule when it comes to being sick and injured. That only increased my panic that much more! In my direction to get him to go to the clinic, I never asked what was actually wrong.

I finally got to the clinic in town after what seemed like forever. The nurses rushed me back to the room the Husbear was in. There was blood everywhere. He was laying down on the table and conscious. The doctor was prepping him for stitches. Through the blood, he had what looked like a gash on the top of his head.

I asked the Husbear what happened. He was working in the aviary putting up a new fence. Something happened while he was using the pole-pounder-in-thingy, and it came down on top of his head.

The doctor put in 14 stitches to close the two inch gash in the top of his head. the Husbear will probably have one hell of a headache later tonight, but he should be fine otherwise.