You're Gonna Kill Me, You're Gonna Kill Me

Four simple words with such fantastic implications. 

The untrained observer can easily misinterpret this phrase thereby wasting untold amounts of valuable time that could have been spent either calling an ambulance or making another sandwich.  A professional, however, will know how to analyze the situation based on four key factors thus avoiding undue bloodshed and/or wasted luncheon meat.

First, how many times is the phrase being repeated in rapid succession?  A mere single utterance can easily convey a matter of polite interest.  "You're gonna kill me."

• I forgot to schedule your doctor's appointment.
• I picked up the wrong dry cleaning.
• I ate the last banana.

Second: tone of voice.  A single utterance coupled with an urgent tone raises the bar.  "You're gonna kill me."

• I forgot to feed the cat/fish/baby.
• I used flea powder instead of baby powder.
• I forgot to tell you that the toilet overflowed this morning before school.

Third, uttering the phrase twice, in rapid succession, and applying a tone filled with shock and disbelief should raise a red flag.  "You're gonna kill me, you're gonna kill me."

• How many toes am I supposed to have?
• Do we have a fire extinguisher?
• How important was the tool shed?

Finally, be on the lookout for the kind of rocking back and forth that is usually associated with autism.  This is a useful and often overlooked indicator.

Upon being greeted by all four indicators neatly wrapped up in one convenient package, two things must happen immediately.  Find the missing child and find your emergency room punch card.

"You're gonna kill me, you're gonna kill me...you're gonna kill me, you're gonna kill me."  Justin had just appeared in the bedroom doorway with the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

"No, no, calm down Justin.  Where is Ethan?" I asked.

"You're gonna kill me, you're gonna kill me," he repeated.

"I'm sure that's not true.  Where is Ethan?" I asked more urgently.

"You're gonna kill me, you're gonna kill me," came the reply.

"Yes, yes, we'll get to that.  What's going on?  Where is Ethan?

"Umm, he fell."

"Fell as in fell or fell as in you pushed him?" I asked.

"Umm, yeah.  He's in the kitchen and he hit his head on the counter.  Is he gonna die, is he gonna die?"

Suddenly my brain snapped into focus and I realized that the distant screaming was not, in fact, my subconscious.

"Show me, Justin!"

Well that wasn't hard.  I remembered where the kitchen was.

"Am I gonna die, am I gonna die?" cried Ethan.

"No, Ethan, but that sure is a lot of blood," I said.

Hmm, that wasn't smart.  The screaming seems to have intensified.  Think fast.

"Well, let me take a look at your forehead, please.  Would you let me...put, put your ha...move your hand!"

"Am I gonna die, am I gonna die?"

"He's gonna die, he's gonna die."  Thank you, Justin.

Despite the chaos, your brain is beginning to process the fact that Justin appears to be learning his lesson.  This is good.  He seems remorseful.  He is upset about what he has done.  He is concerned for his little brother's well being.  This is a rookie mistake.  Don't let the noise and confusion mask the true meaning of these words.  You see, "he's gonna die, he's gonna die" is the string that ties up the entire package.  If Ethan dies, you're gonna kill me!  Self preservation?  You got that right!

"Calm down both of you!" I said.  Nobody is going to die...(right now).  Alright we need to get your jacket and boots on.  Yes, I will help you.  I need you to hold this washcloth over your wound.  Justin, you too!  You're going with us!"  (If this is going to work properly, you need to come to the ER and see exactly what's about to happen.)

"Dad, what's gonna happen?  He's gonna have to have stitches, isn't he?"

"I don't know, Justin."

I do know, Justin.

"Stitches?!" cried Ethan.  The screaming intensified again.

"No, Ethan."

Yes, Ethan.

"We'll go to the hospital and see what the doctor has to say."  (Besides "hold still and stop screaming".)

"What about dinner?" he asked in a manner devoid of all hysteria.  This caught me completely off guard.

"What?"

"What about dinner?  Isn't it dinner time?"

"Ethan!  You just split your head open.  It's not time for dinner.  Now both of you...boots, coats, hats, gloves, car, go!  Ashley?  You and your folks will have to go to mass without us.  Say a prayer for both boys."

Thankfully, the car ride started out quietly because I had to navigate through a blizzard to a hospital that was halfway down the hill.  We began to drive as I tried not to write the ironic headline "Man Dies in Crash on the Way to the ER" in my head.

Suddenly, Ethan let out a scream and began to bawl again.  How did I avoid crashing into a tree?  I still don't know.

"What happened?  What's wrong?  Is it your head?  We'll be there in two minutes," I said.

"Is Justin going to get coal?" Ethan asked.  Dead silence from Justin's seat.

What?!  It took my brain a few moments to wrap itself around the question.  I'm certain there was an audible chuckle.

"I don't know, Ethan.  I just don't know," I said.

"Cause he didn't mean to and I don't want him to get coal in his stocking."

"That's very nice.  [another chuckle]  Let's just worry about getting to the hospital in one piece first, shall we?"

"Okay."

Let the learning commence!

We were the only ones in the waiting room though the ER, as a whole, was very busy.  An interesting fact considering that this was Christmas Eve.  There was the perfect amount of anxious waiting.  Long enough, indeed, to contemplate the imminent arrival of coal.  When Ethan was called back to one of the curtained beds, I asked Justin to remain in the waiting room.

"There's a television," I pointed out.  "And there's a Christmas special on."

I could see that the gurney Ethan was stretched out on was well within earshot of the waiting room.  Perfect.  Would it be mean to say that Christmas had come early for me?  Maybe.  There was plenty of screaming, crying and hand-holding.  Ethan managed like a pro and, once the needle had been put away and the anesthetic took effect, was terribly fascinated by the goings on.  All the while, Justin was left alone with his thoughts...watching A Miser Brothers' Christmas.  Do you remember the television special I mentioned?  The entire plot revolves around two brothers who nearly ruined Christmas because they wouldn't stop fighting.

Despite missing dinner and mass, Christmas had come early, if only by four hours.

- 24 December 2008