A Summer of Mischance on the River (Part II)

 Days after getting 7 stitches in my right knee, my family went on our annual 2 week vacation. I don't remember where we went or anything about the vacation. It is safe to presume I didn't go swimming or enjoy it much with 7 stitches in my knee. I don't even recall when I got the stitches removed. 

However, not long after we returned, I remember mom, dad, my brother Dana, and I went on a boat ride with our neighbors on their pontoon boat up the Wapsipinicon river. I remember wearing my favorite pair of shorts and sitting at the front of the pontoon boat next to Dana, dangling our bare feet in the splashes of water. I was sitting on a 2x10 plank because I didn't want to get my favorite shorts wet, when I scooted too near the end of the plank, upsetting the center of balance and tipping into the river. I remember emerging behind the boat and hearing frantic screams from my mom on the boat. 

Dad immediately dove into the river to my rescue. I was an avid swimmer so that's not why he was diving in to my rescue. I remember dad yelling at my mom to stay on the boat and how silly she looked when she did a belly-flop into the river to help. The river was shallow enough at this point that dad was able to carry me to shore.  How coincidental was it that this mishap occurred directly in front of my family doctor's summer cabin? And how coincidental was it that my doctor and his wife just happened to be lounging in their yard to witness this tragedy? And how coincidental was it that my doctor's assistant and his wife just happened to be lounging alongside them? God was obviously looking out for me that day.

The next memory of the event I have is in the back of my doctor's station wagon on the way to the hospital. I remember telling my parents that I have $300 saved up to help pay for this, unveiling a faint smile smile from my mom between all her tears. I remember not feeling any pain whatsoever.

I only remember bits and pieces of my 2-week stay in the hospital to recover. I remember having a crush on the candy-striper who attended me, getting quiet adept at handling a wheelchair, skillfully balancing it on the 2 wheels. I remember the deepest cuts on my thigh got infected so the doctor had to remove 2-3 stitches to squeeze out the puss that had grown underneath. 
13 lacerations on the inside of my left leg from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Over 350 stitches is what the doctored reported sewing in. For the next 15 years, I seldom wore shorts or went swimming because I was so self-conscience of the ugly scars on my leg.