Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Scar? What scar?

This is one of the Candy Jar Stories from my old blog.  I thought it was appropriate for my TGFIO post.  TGFIO stands for

Thank
God
February
Is
Over!

(Well, it's almost over. . . and tomorrow is saved for Black and White Wednesdays  . . . so there you go.)

More Candy Jar Stories . . .



You have a scar . .  . where?  (*looks intently*)  Oh yeah!  I see it.  How did that happen?


(I think this is a pre-scar picture, because my hair is parted in the middle.  Fourth grade at Tamarack Elementary School)

First of all we lived in the suburbs when I was growing up, you know sidewalks and culdesacs, street lights and houses so close you can't walk between them with your arms stretched out.  (Well maybe not that close, but pretty close.)  My mother had just had a hysterectomy and had just come home from the hospital the day before.  My dad was home, I'm not sure why unless it was because it was Saturday, I don't remember.  My grandma was there, probably helping my mom since she just had surgery. 

I guess I was about 9 or 10 years old.  I was riding my bike on the sidewalk in front of our house.  I was "snaking" which was what we called it when you rode your bike in a "S" shape from one side of the sidewalk to the other, without touching the neighbors grass.  I was snaking along, and I cut the front wheel too sharp and the bike slid to the side and I kept going right over the handlebars. 


Like I explained before I was legally blind, so I had to wear glasses like from the 2nd grade.  I flew over the handlebars and landed right on my glasses. 


"Awww, man! Not the glasses."  I said, as I crawled around the sidewalk and grass feeling for them.  Feeling, feeling . . . ah there they are.


I picked them up (pulled them close to my eyes no doubt) and discovered that the lenses were still in, the frame was just scraped a little from the concrete.  I thought I could probably cover that up with my bangs and no one would notice.


I put the glasses on, and picked up my bike.  I guess I'll go in and see if anyone was watching and saw me fall . . .or whatever I was thinking, cause I don't really remember.


I started pushing my bike to the backyard, and when I looked down, I saw a drop of something red on the sidewalk, and then another, and then . . . wha?


I put my hand on my head and when I pulled it down and looked at it, my hand was covered in bright red blood. 


Then I started SCREAMING!!  I had no pain before this, and not really any after, I just knew it was bad. 


So here was this bloody faced kid who came in the house and the first person who saw me was my grandma.  I saw the reaction on her face, and I knew it was bad. . . but uh. . . then I don't remember much else, not because I passed out or anything.  But because my grandmother put a dish towel over the cut on my head and covered my eyes and I couldn't see.
The next thing I remember seeing, was my mom sitting in the car and my dad or grandma or somebody was putting me in her lap to ride to the emergency room.


We got to the emergency room and they put my mom in a wheel chair because she just got home from having surgery.  They took me in the examination room and laid me on a stretcher under a bright white light.  My dad was in there with me and I remember he was holding my hand.  Then the doctor said, "We're going to put some stitches in your head to sew your skin together because I can see your bone from your head.  It's the prettiest, cleanest, white bone I've ever seen."

*LOUD THUD*

I couldn't feel my dad's hand any more, and I asked, "What was that?"
The doctor kept right on stitching and said, "Sweetie that was your dad.  I think he fainted."
I thought this is great, they are giving me stitches while my mom is in the hall in a wheel chair and now my dad is on a stretcher too.  Passed out cold at the sight of his daughter's skull bone.

I got eight stitches horizontally across my right eyebrow, about an inch and a half above my eyebrow.  I kind of have a dented in spot under the scar, I guess from the scar tissue.



Dad, I miss you a bunch.  I think about that day whenever I am trying to comb my bangs over the scar so people won't notice as much. 

Photobucket

Daisypath Christmas tickers

2 comments:

  1. The part about your dad fainting is so funny! Right out of a sitcom! LOL We lived on Main Street when I was growing up but there was a dead end road that ran beside our next door neighbor on one side and we spent HOURS riding our bikes up and down that road. How I miss those carefree days!

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  2. I have a similar story, but it was my Mum fainting and me on the stretcher in ER. Always something!!!
    Rosemary

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