For the newest Giggle Translate, I wrote about a less-than-pleasant day I had when I injured myself gardening. Here it is:
The Original Version, in a post under the heading of "Things I've Actually Said":
“Hi, Honey! I did something stupid. I’m alright, but can you pick up some butterfly bandages on your way home?”
The Original Version, in a post under the heading of "Things I've Actually Said":
“Hi, Honey! I did something stupid. I’m alright, but can you pick up some butterfly bandages on your way home?”
I had just said good-bye to my husband and sons as they left for a store. And I called out to my husband as he pulled away, “Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?”
But I really preferred to spend some time home alone, so I was relieved when he said, “No, I’ve got it covered. You stay home and enjoy your time alone.”
About a minute after they pulled away, I was trying to hang up a stupid, little, $1, plastic wind-chime. I was standing on a log and reaching through the side of the trellis to hang it on the outer most rung at the top of the trellis. Just as I got it into place, the log slipped out from under me and I landed on the ground on my feet. But as I stood there with my arm still stuck in the trellis side, I knew something was wrong. I thought I had reached through one of the diamond-shaped holes on the trellis side and that the bottom of my upper arm was being pinched in the bottom of the diamond.
Man, this really hurts! Why is it hurting so bad? Something’s not right!, I thought as I pulled my arm out of the trellis side. I had no idea what was hurting so bad as I struggled to take my flannel shirt off so that I could check under my arm. And when I did, I saw an inch-wide, gaping gash with fat bulging out. It was then that I realized that I hadn’t put my arm through a diamond, but through a spot that had a decorative “dagger” that was over an inch long and pointed up. So when I slipped off the log, my arm was impaled on the “dagger.” And that’s why I couldn’t get my arm out easily. (It took so much force to yank my arm out - before I knew I impaled it - that I bent the metal dagger about 35 degrees or so from when it pointed up.)
Barely a minute after they left! Stupid log! Stupid trellis! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! And all for a stupid, dollar-store decoration. As I examined the hole in my arm, I began to panic a little. Hospital or not? Emergency room for stitches or treat it myself? Call husband or wait for him to get home? Tetanus?
In my panic, I began to feel a little woozy, so I laid down on the couch for a few minutes.
My initial biggest fear was that I might have punctured that main artery that runs along the underside of my arm. But when I saw that I was barely bleeding, I realized that I had missed it. And I thanked God profusely that I wasn’t going to bleed to death. (Thankfully, since my arm was nearly pointing up to the sky as I fell off the log, the dagger punctured along under the skin instead of stabbing straight into my arm where it would have punctured through muscles and arteries. That would have been much worse.)
My next fear was of infection. The end of the dagger had gone over an inch into my arm, so I did what I could to squeeze some of the blood out of the wound to clean out any debris. And I washed the open hole as best I could. And then I tried to call my mom (who is a nurse) to get her opinion on if I should go to the hospital or not. But I couldn’t get a hold of her.
By this time, I was calming down. And I figured that I was pretty safe in just treating it at home, as long as I kept an eye out for infection. (If it was my kids, I would have taken them to the doctor in a heartbeat. But for myself, well, I could manage.) So I called my husband and told him I did “something stupid” and that I needed him to buy some butterfly bandages.
While he was applying them to my arm after he got home, my mom called. And she agreed that I could treat it at home as long as I had antibiotic and butterfly bandages. So that’s just what I did. Thank You, God, for that confirmation! It puts my mind at ease.
And here is the translated version after I ran it through a bunch of different languages with Google Translate [any comments I make will be in brackets and in blue]:
"Hello, baby baby! Something stupid happened to me." It might be nice for me, but can you have a group of butterflies on the way home? "
I told my husband and children while I was shopping. [Told them what? Don't leave me hanging.] When he died, I called my wife [So I have a husband and a wife!?! Sick! And then Google Translate goes and kills off my husband? That makes me mad!] and said, "Are you sure you should not join me?"
But it pleases me to be at home, alone, in order to have peace from the heart, when he says: 'It is not I so I do not conceal it. Liveth, he laughs in and of itself.' [I kinda like the sound of that ... "Liveth, he laughs in and of itself." And I totally am pleased to be home alone to have peace in my heart!]
About a minute after I left, I tried to walk crazy with plastic bags. [I have weird hobbies, I guess.] I sat on a tree, walked to the edge, and put my hand on a pole. As soon as I put it in, my torso went down and fell at my feet. But my hand was still on the pole and I knew something was wrong. [Well, duh, my torso's on the ground and my hand's on a pole!!!] Because I thought the diamond-shaped box in the hole I was drilling in the bottom was attached to my hand and the diamond in my hand.
God forgive me! What is murder? One thing is wrong! I let go of my hand. I do not know if it caused such a serious problem when I took off my clothes and tried to remove them. [Probably not in today's shameless society.] When doing so, the nose can be large in size. I don't know about diamonds, but how long and how long it takes to remove this space in my head. [Uh, no thank you. I don't think I want anything removed from my head. That doesn't sound good.] When I published the paper, my hands were slimmer. So I can hold hands more easily. (Appearing out requires a lot. I already know that.) I bent metal bullets 35 degrees or higher. [Wow, I'm like Superman!]
He'll be gone in a few minutes! All paper! Stupid farm! READ! READ! READ! It's all about dollar jewelry. I was nervous when I saw the hole in my hand. Is that a hospital? Paper or tablet? Calling a partner or waiting for them to leave? The train?
I slept in bed for a few minutes and it started.
My first fear was losing a lot of muscle [oozing from the hole, I assume]. But I know in this way that I repented and sinned. And thank God I did not leave before I died. [Umm, yeah, that's something to be thankful for, I guess. I think.] (Unfortunately, if the arms are raised high and fall into a tree, the skin is pressed against the body, not the arms and neck).
Some of the ideas found are sad. The dandruff head stuck in my hand for more than an inch [Get your disgusting dandruff head out of my wound!] and allowed me to remove all the blood, clean the wound, and clean my lips. [I'm not sure I wanna know why my lips needed to be cleaned.] Make holes regularly. Afterwards I tried to call my mother (the nurse) to listen to her I asked if I should go to the hospital or not. But I can't.
Then I sat down. I remember being at home when I got sick. (And my kids, I want to go to the doctor right away. I can do it myself.) I called my wife and asked her to do it. I want to buy butterfly leaves. [That sounds cool!]
He came home and grabbed his arms [From where? From like the refrigerator or something!?! Gross!] and mom called me. He thought that if there were antibiotics and butterflies, I would work for him at home. Thank God for that word! He chose me.
[Well, that last line should make all the Calvinists happy! And I spend so much time writing against Calvinism too. Ironic! I wonder if that's how Calvinism started - running the Bible through a whole bunch of languages with Google Translate until you get something like that. I'm just sayin'.]
