Hubby works nights. He leaves at 6.30pm and gets home around 4 am.
Early hours of Friday morning, this is the scene that awaited him when he got home. A bloody massacre like something you would see in a horror movie. These pictures are taken from his Facebook feed.
But what could have happened, why were there numerous missed calls on his phone and texts?
But most importantly, where was I and our 13-year-old daughter and why was my mum sitting in the lounge waiting for him to come home!
Flashback to a few hours earlier and I was just going to sleep when my phone rang. Seeing my daughters name on the display I considered not answering assuming it was her begging to have the internet on a bit later. In the end, I decided to answer it.
I could barely understand what Becky was saying. She was sobbing so hard. All I caught was the words foot and blood and it won’t stop. I quickly went downstairs to see what was going on.
“I stood on something and cut my foot” she managed to gasp out between tears as I entered her room. “It won’t stop bleeding” and it was true, her bed and floor were covered in blood. As I went to sit down beside her to check her foot out, I stood on the same thing and now blood was pouring from my foot as well.
When her dad had tidied the kitchen earlier he had placed her food processor which she had gotten for Christmas as she loves baking, in its box on her bed. She was supposed to put it where she keeps it, which is on the top shelf in her bedroom but in typical teenager fashion, she had swept it all on the floor. What we had stood on was the blade and being sharp it had deeply cut both our feet.
Seeing how much we were both bleeding and how deep the cut was I decided to phone 999 and asked for an ambulance. It was around 1.30am and knowing our local hospital was closed and the nearest main hospitals were over an hour away. I thought that the ambulance crew would be able to deal with it there and then, but just in case, I phoned my dad and asked him to come over and watch the other children.
Just before my dad arrived I received a call from ambulance control. There were no ambulances available and was there any chance I could make my own way to the hospital. A taxi was even mentioned but I declined that. I would rather give my dad money for fuel than make the NHS pay goodness knows how much for an hours taxi ride! This meant that my poor dad had to go home to get my mum so that she could watch the children whilst he took us to hospital.
Whilst waiting for my dad, I checked the live waiting times for the three main hospitals around me, all of which are an hour away, to see which had the shortest waiting list.
Dad took us to Aberystwyth hospital which had a shorter waiting list and he made it there in good time. We left at 1.50am and we made it there within an hour.
Once we’d been seen it turned out that I needed three stitches in my foot and it was still bleeding. Becky was too scared to have stitches so she settled from butterfly stitches instead.
It was 6 am before we got home, both of tired and limping. But Becky managed to find the bright side since she can’t do p.e next week!