A true Christmas miracle

For every action there is an equal or opposite reaction.
But if you’re stupid, that reaction is generally called poetic justice.
On Christmas eve I was in Calgary with my family. We had come from church, and were, for the first time as a family in our 23 years, opening presents the night before Christmas instead of Christmas Day.
I am told this is a Norwegian tradition. However, the only Norwegian tradition I have been aware of in our family is drinking strong coffee and ridiculing Swedes. 
Since this inaugural ethnic Christmas was a momentous occasion for the Haugan clan, photographs had to be taken.
My sister and I searched the house for lamps to provide more light in the living room so the photos would be perfect. Then we stripped them of their shades, and placed them on coffee tables, chairs, and the entertainment centre.
Next I did something that, to me, made sense at the time, but in hindsight was retarded.
I took the lampshade from one of the lamps, and placed it on top of the bulb, teetering sideways, so the light would exude out laterally instead of upwards and downward.
Since lamps are not free from abiding within the law of gravity, the energy efficient light bulb resting atop the seven-foot high television stand, toppled over and shattered on my hand.
The light was turned on and the spiral bulb not only shattered, but popped from the gas trapped within, very quickly and very effectively stabbing the top of my hand.
It bled. A lot.
I walked towards my mother who, before seeing my hand, was upset that a lamp had broken and then went into slight hysterics.
She grabbed me by the wrist and ran cold water in the kitchen sink over the gash.
“Mom, I didn’t burn my hand on a curling iron.”
“Dean,” she yelled almost in tears. “Get your brother something to tie around his hand. Hurry, he’s bleeding!”
Dean is a loyal brother.
He evaluated the situation, and then took off the new scarf his girlfriend bought him for Christmas, tying it tight like a dad ties skates for his kid.
Though it in no way restricted the blood, at all, I was still grateful.
Mom banged on the bathroom door.
“Stan,” she yelled. “Curtis cut himself, he needs to go to the hospital. He’s bleeding… Stan!”
He said the only thing anyone says, regardless of circumstance, when a person knocks while you’re using the toilet.
“I’m in the bathroom.”
He came out, evaluated the situation and grabbed the keys.
“Let’s roll.”
My dad and my bother Dean and I hopped in the vehicle at 10:30 p.m. Christmas Eve and sped to the emergency room at Rockyview Hospital.
The thing about hospitals at a time like Christmas Eve is there only a couple of types of people who are there – either the very sick, the very lonely, or the very stupid.
I was the lattermost. 
But then, as if shattering the punishment that would have me sitting in emergency in one of the worst cities for hospital waiting time in the country, a Christmas miracle took place.
Well, more accurately, a Christmas epiphany took place, and it wasn’t thanks to Santa Clause played by Tim Allen. It was from the discovery of the sweetest words a person can see written on a hospital form in the emergency room.
Active bleeder.
Notwithstanding the grotesque nature of people bleeding all over the emergency room, apparently losing blood is also hazardous to your health. So much so, that you will get priority over the pale, hacking, tired horde that has been sitting in the ER for half a day.
Before I could even sit down to wait, my name was called, and the expedited repair of my hand began.
As a side note for the young men who wonder where to meet a lady. Try the hospital on holidays. All the young freshly graduated nurses get shafted to working Christmas and New Years, and, if you’re a nice guy, they may sympathize with your plight.
Regardless, a true Christmas miracle took place that night.
As we drove back home on Deerfoot Trail, we counted our blessings not because the lamp failed to sever any arteries or muscle, but that we had somehow come in and out of a Calgary hospital in less than an hour. 
If you don’t believe me, I’ll understand.