Summer in the Chester

Every summer, Mr. Smith and I take a trip to his hometown, the thriving metropolis of Winchester, TN. This year was especially a fun trip, since we made it the weekend sister-in-law Teddy was in with her two boys, Hampton and Dalton!

Papa Tom is a doctor extraordinaire. He's forever picking at my moles and telling me to keep an eye on the 'suspicious' ones. I've had some problems recently with a. eye funk and b. getting in to see my dermatologist (she's the best in town. Downside? Six weeks to get an appointment, yo.) I even went to my family physician who was worried about prescribing anything for around my eye, so I have lived through two months with scaly eyelids (no. I'm not kidding. And as an aside, whenever I get anything, it's not like a COLD, or the FLU {NEVER HAD THE FLU. NOT ONCE.} oh no, nothing normal for normal people to take amoxicillin and call it a day. Nope, whenever I get anything, I get it on my FACE. Hives? Face. Ringworm? Face. ECZEMA WHEN EVERYONE ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH GETS ECZEMA ON THEIR ARMS AND LEGS BUT WHERE DO I GET IT? BINGO! Snakeskin eyelids forthwith, please.) So I was especially pleased with the timing of this visit to the Chester in order to get a little doctoring in courtesy of Dr. Tom.

He did not disappoint! After supper, he handed me a bottle of liquid which he avowed would "sting like Hell" but get rid of the eczema lickety split. It stung like Hell. He then immediately turned to the dog and put some of it on her. (Me, indignant: "Did you just give me DOG medicine?" Tom, equally indignant: "NO! I give the dog people medicine!") It took three more applications, and I left the Chester on Sunday with peeled snakeskin eyelids, hooray! Thanks, Tom!

Saturday morning I awoke to the screams of 4-year-old Dalton. In my sleep coma I could have sworn he was squeezing out crocodile tears and for someone to tell the baby to stop crying but fancy that. They were real. He had been playing under some furniture and had cut a huge gash in his leg on an exposed tack. Dr. Tom took one look at it, cleaned it up and slapped on some numbing cream. He then informed Teddy that stitches would commence in twenty minutes. At the appointed hour, Tommy and Lexie were enlisted as assistants and before you could say "bite down on this bullet" they had Dalton sewn up.

he was a less than willing patient, poor thing

Next, off to the lake! Dr. Tom slapped a waterproof bandaid on his stitches (revolutionary. Would have made my childhood summers much more enjoyable - how very many times was I sidelined on a pool deck or confined to a boat when nursing bad cuts or stitches!) and we were off boating and swimming.

And jet skiing.

After a jaunt with nephew Hampton and Tommy (where Hampton repeatedly called Tommy Grandpa and urged him to go faster) I told Tommy his driving was scaring me and to take me back to the dock. He obliged, and took Hampton back out for a no-holds-barred ride of his life.

He should have held a few more bars. Hampton came back with a busted chin and blood down to his knees. We were out on the lake and by the time we got back home and cleaned him up, his cut was not deemed stitch-worthy, but was butterflied up to heal.

those boys play rough and tumble

Here we have a shot of Dr. Tom's patients from the weekend:

i wore a butterfly on my eyelid in solidarity

And here, because it's funny:

hampton's take on the bunny ears. he calls it "the unicorn."

And now we're back home. I needed some rest after all that excitement.

Over and out,
M