MOUNTAIN TOP FIASCO

Today, my sister, her daughter Britta, my girls, and I all piled in the pickup to head up Mt. Emily for one last huckleberry picking expedition. We were happy to find a spot where the berries were huge and plentiful on both sides of the road. My sister and I headed up the steep incline on one side of the road, while Britta went down the gentle slope on the other side. The girls were content to just hang out by the pickup playing with sticks and rocks, etc. About 20 minutes in to picking, with about 1/3 of my gallon can filled, I hear Keanna cry out in pain. I stood up, turned around to see what was wrong when suddenly, her cry turned into an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream that made me kick my descent into high gear. At this point, Kamille commences to screaming right along with her little sister.

My heart was in my throat when I finally see the girls because Keanna has blood POURING out of the top of her head, running down her face, down her ear into a large puddle forming in the neck of her sweatshirt. At this point, my feet find a huge hole camoflaged by leaves and bushes. After promptly spilling my huckleberries, I land on my backside and begin to tumble 2 or 3 times down the rest of the hill. My sister and I reach my girls at about the same time and all I can see is blood, blood and more blood. I grab my daughter, throw a wet rag and ice from somebody's drink on the spot I "think" the blood is coming from and jump into my sister's pickup. Let's just say we didn't waste any time getting down from the top of the mountain and into the parking lot of the hospital. After all the fear, the prayers that my daughter would be ok, keeping her talking and not going into shock, and the crazy driving, we get into the ER. This is where we discover that head wounds really do bleed bad and look worse than it really is. This is ALSO where we discover what happened to cause all this ruckus. Kamille took a notion to pick up a large, flat, sharp-edged rock and throw it like a frisbee, only to have it connect with her sister's scalp. There was nothing to staple or stitch, as it basically just skimmed the top layer of scalp off in a spot about the size of an almond. After all the adrenaline slowed down, I realized that falling like that at 36 hurts a LOT worse and longer than when you are 20 and I know a 10 year old who learned a VERY valuable lesson about listening when your mother tells you to "...STOP THROWING ROCKS!!!!" We were all glad to get home, get showers to wash all the blood and dirt off, and I was just happy to sit on the couch holding both my girls, contemplating how lucky I was that things were not as bad as they first appeared!