My father was born in 1894

  on his parent's homesteaded "out west."

He was a tough, but sensitive little guy.

At age four, four fingers were chopped off

 (most of the way)  in a game 

on the wood chopping block with a brother,

  age six.

My grandmother held my father in her rocker

 while keeping the almost severed fingers in place.

Three hours later rider, the doctor,

  on a galloping horse arrived.  

He sewed those fingers back on with my

  grandmother's mending needle and her thread.

Yes.  A tough little guy.

 Years later,

As a husband and father of four, 

  the pain in his head put him to bed.

His remedy--rest,aspirin,a darkened room and quiet kids.

 We didn't know that word, "migraine."

 No doctor was ever involved.

Then, a tough big guy.

 And now, I know what he endured.