Saturday night at the emergency room

Luckily, there is lots of distraught hipster music to describe how it feels to be locked out of the ER while your child is inside with her dad - who was carrying her while you parked the car - and you can hear her screaming through two sets of doors because there is an inch-long roofing nail stuck in her foot, which they can’t just pull out because it might be lodged in the bone and they need an X-ray before getting the pliers; the woman next to you is crying because her small baby has just been taken away to isolation with severe Covid symptoms, the doctors are taking the woman’s nasal swab right there in the outdoors waiting area so she doesn’t infect the ER, and the security guard is trying to distract you, “It’ll be okay, I stepped on so many nails as a kid, this isn’t even the most dramatic thing to happen this evening - right over there where you’re standing,” you notice a wet spot hosed in the ER driveway by your feet, “a baby was born before they could get inside! By the time I ran in to get the doctors and came back out there was a baby crying, and the dad was freaking out and laughing because he just bought the car.”

It was a short visit, as ER trips go, and after an hour Mike came out with the girl in his arms, still barefoot from hanging out in the yard eating lychees when the foot race accident happened. Zenny was laughing with shock, holding two stuffed toys the nurses gave her, along with a biohazard bag containing a bloody roofing nail. She’s doing fine now, medicated and sitting on the couch watching cartoons with her foot wrapped up like a football. We’ve learned that she reacts to injury like a character in a 19th century novel, covering her face and sobbing, “I can’t bear it! I’m going to die!” before fainting. This poor kid, my heart hurts.

5 minutes before the incident. Somewhere in the leaves on the left side,

 a stray roofing nail waited for two years to find her foot.

Now Mike and I are both side-eyeing each other because we’ve almost definitely been exposed to the virus, but there isn’t anything we can do about it unless the contact tracers call to confirm it and refer us for testing. Will consult our regular doctor today when we call for her follow-up.

Stuffed poi pounder that squeaks when you bop it, courtesy of Wahiawa General

This year.