My dad is accident prone.  That is sort of an understatement.   The doctors at the local ER sort of know him by name.  Which is why my mother and I regularly have text exchanges like this:

Yeah, she’s even reached that point when taking him to the doctor herself seems unnecessary.  He’ll be fine.  Unless some appendage is actually separated from his body as a whole she no longer really considers it an emergency.

That’s because my dad loves to work with wood.  Really he is working with saws, a lathe, axes, knives, drills and other various sharp and/or pointy objects.  The wood part is really secondary.  Anyway over the years his hands, fingers, arms, face, chest, and even once a part more precious to men than any other have gotten in the way of something sharp.

All in all he has really come out ok.  He is missing one finger and parts of a few others.  He’s got a bunch of scars.  There is no feeling left in several other fingers, but that is actually a good thing, less pain next time he cuts them.

So yeah, texts like this are pretty common.  And dad is lucky that chicks like mom dig scars.

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