Yesterday was St Patrick's day here in Australia. And while it is not as big of deal here as the USA or Ireland for that matter, Roy and I still enjoyed heading out to an Irish pub for a meal and a drink together. I had the day off and we also wandered out to the local markets and bought some of the farm fresh produce that is so readily available here in Queensland.
It was an uneventful day and despite the worries we've been having over finding permanent work I felt that we were settling in to life here and enjoying some of life's little pleasures again.
Later that evening, I wanted to try out a new recipe for bruchetta that I had made at school with a cooking class. Roy had gone upstairs to watch a movie and Honey was playing around in the kitchen with me. After enjoying my 'meal for one' and observing a mess that Honey had made on the carpet, I decided to do a quick vacuum.
Diana (Roy's mum, who lives next door in our granny flat) had come over to say goodnight and have a chat. I pulled out the vacuum and began attacking the mess on the carpet. It was a rather deep pile rug and I bent down to move the power head a bit further over the worst of the mess. I had both hands on the metal rod of the vacuum.
The next thing I know, I feel a strange tingling in my arms and realize that electricity is pulsing through the rod of the vacuum. My hands were contracted onto the pole and I could not let go. I started to scream hysterically, not even aware that anyone is in the room with me. I lifted my knee to try to push the vacuum out of my hands, but just feel the electricity jolt into my knee. I'm still screaming like a banshee. My mind is spinning. I can't believe this is it. I know I'm going to die. I don't want to die. I picture my body failing, my fingers exploding.
Suddenly, it stops, as unexpectedly it starts. Diana had the presence of mind to pull the cord from the wall. I smelled burnt skin. I looked down at my left and saw my hand has been burned around my wedding ring, but everything else seems to be fine.
Although, I knew I was now ok, I was in shock and cried all the way to the hospital. They all said the same thing, "I'm lucky to be alive."
I guess its a good thing I'm Irish.
Heather, that is so scary!! I am so glad you are okay. I'll have to call your Mom today, as I'm sure she's still shaking.
ReplyDeleteI had an experience myself on St. Pat's. Cooking a corned beef with a whiskey, apple juice glaze in a covered pan in the oven. I guess fumes built up and exploded? The oven door kaboomed open, and closed, emitting a black ball of gas? Low compression fire my hubby called it...who said the windows in the house rattled...and ran into the kitchen to find me in front of the stove with a stunned look on my face, a slight burn on my arm, and a "smoking" cardigan sweater that burned a hole through to my t-shirt underneath. It could have been worse! The pan in the oven still had it's lid, no mess, no breakage...don't quite know what happened. We had a lovely dinner when all was said and done!