APPARENTLY, I WASN’T THE MAIN ATTRACTION

Apparently I Wasn't the Main Attraction

There are some stories that are so ridiculous that you couldn't make them up if you tried.

This is one of them.

Two days after my hip replacement, things went sideways.

By early morning, I knew something wasn't right.

We called 911.

The paramedics arrived quickly.

Unfortunately, getting me into the ambulance was not going to be simple.

They initially really wanted to use their gurney, but our house had other plans.

Unfortunately for me, live in a split-level, and the path from our bedroom to the stairs had apparently decided to become its own obstacle course.

The angles between the bedroom door, the hallway, and the stairs all looked at the situation and collectively decided:

"Hold my beer."

The paramedics quickly realized that the gurney was a no-go because there was just no way to make the impossible work.

They brought in a special stair chair.

The problem?

It required me to sit down.

That wasn't happening.

Every attempt ended almost as quickly as it began.

The paramedics were calm, professional, and determined to figure out the safest way to get me out.

They called the fire department for additional assistance.

A few minutes later, my bedroom was full of firefighters.

They looked at me.

They looked at the hallway.

They looked at the stairs.

They looked at each other.

Then they started leaving.

One by one.

Down the stairs.

At first, I assumed they were discussing rescue plans.

That made sense.

But then more people left.

And more.

And suddenly I was lying there thinking...

“Wait..."

“Where is everyone going?"

“Why is everyone leaving me?"

“ I don't understand what is

happening!"

Had everyone just...

wandered off?

Was I the only one still committed to this emergency?

My fever was high, and my brain was not exactly operating at peak performance.

My normal temperature is 97.3.

It climbed past 99...

then 101...

which, for me, felt like my thermostat had been relocated directly to Hell. (By the time we reached the hospital, it had climbed over 103.)

So naturally, my brain started coming up with explanations.

Maybe it was because I hadn't showered since surgery.

It had been about 36 hours.

Maybe I smelled.

Except...

I couldn't smell anything.

Maybe my fever had broken my sniffer.

Then I considered my hair.

I had developed a truly impressive case of post-surgery bed head.

Maybe everyone had simply decided they'd seen enough of my hair for one lifetime.

Then I heard it.

Laughter.

From downstairs.

And excited voices.

Now I was really confused.

Why was everyone laughing?

Why did everyone sound so happy?

Wasn't this supposed to be about getting me out of the house?

Finally, Justin came back upstairs.

I looked at him.

"Where is everyone going?"

He looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"The firefighters.

The paramedics.

Everyone keeps leaving.

What is happening?"

And then he explained.

They had heard the barking.

They asked what kind of dogs we had.

So Justin told them.

"We have Irish Wolfhounds."

And apparently that was all it took.

They wanted to see them.

Justin said,

“Follow me."

And...

they did.

A bunch of people who had never encountered Irish Wolfhounds before suddenly found themselves standing in front of two walking, growing legends.

And the funniest part?

They weren't even fully grown!

Clover was an still basically a puppy herself at only 14 months old.

Hooligan was only three months old.

They were just itty bitties...

relatively speaking.

They still had so much growing left to do.

Yet everyone was completely amazed by their size.

Meanwhile upstairs...

I was lying there thinking:

"Um...

hello?

Still the patient here."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

The footsteps.

The laughter.

The excited voices.

The disappearing first responders.

My rescue operation had not been interrupted by some complicated extraction plan.

It had been interrupted by an Irish Wolfhound meet-and-greet!

Apparently...

nobody had been escaping my bed

head after all.

Eventually everyone came back upstairs.

One of the firefighters walked in carrying what I have affectionately named...

The Burrito Bag.

I'm sure it has a proper rescue name.

I don't know what it is.

To me, it will always be The Burrito Bag.

Within minutes I was wrapped, strapped, and securely bundled into my giant rescue cocoon before being carried through the house and out to the waiting ambulance

I have to say that the first responders were incredible.

They did exactly what they came to do

They just also happened to discover two Irish Wolfhounds along the way.

Justin later told me that as they carried me down the stairs, the firefighters lifted me high overhead so I cleared the stair railing and bannisters safely.

As they loaded me into the ambulance, the doors slowly began to close.

I remember thinking I would probably hear something reassuring.

"Feel better."

"Good luck."

Something like that.

Instead, the last thing I heard before the ambulance doors shut was the police officer talking to another responder outside of my view.

"Did you see the size of those dogs? Holy s@@t!"

The doors closed.

Off we went to the hospital.

And all I could do was laugh.

Because somehow during my own medical emergency, which included a high fever and a Burrito bag......

I still wasn't the main attraction.

Clover and Hooligan were.

Then again...

if you've ever met an Irish Wolfhound...

you probably understand.

Sometimes...

they don't just steal your heart.

They steal your 911 call too