Last Saturday, April 11th, Andrew and I made a visit to the ER. He was cutting branches with a hand saw... about 20 to 30 ft. up in one of the trees in our backyard. As one of the branches was falling to the ground, it took the saw with it and sliced Andrew's finger several times. He calls me while I'm out running errands and asks about how far away I am... I said 15 mins- in reality I was about 5 mins away but wanted to stop and get some Easter surprises for him from Walgreens. Well, my commute was cut short when he proceeded to tell me... "well, no rush or anything but... I kinda cut my finger... and I think I might need stitches... BUT don't rush or anything. It's fine." Ummm... in my mind, if MY husband actually thinks he may need stitches... it's probably worse than he's telling me. I rushed home... found several of the neighbors, including the Odom kids who were playing with Sumo, tell me "Brother Armitage cut himself and he's bleeding all over the place!" I rush in .... and the man is upstairs changing out of his grubby clothes and into something a bit more cleaned up. In a panic, I still managed to laugh... that I found him nonchalantly dressing for the ER occasion. We headed out to the Newberg Providence Medical Center and went through the 3-hour lengthy process just to get my husband 5 stitches. They gave him a tetanus shot, stitches, a stint, some antibiotics and then we were off on our way. It was exactly how I envisioned our Saturday night to go... NOT!