stitched up

April 27, 2010
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The football flew out of the quarterback’s hands on target to the receiver. I was a second slow and just missed the tackle, colliding with my friend coming from the other side. I was knocked backwards as my hands flew to the painful spot on my forehead. I heard people ask if I was all right but I couldn’t answer because the pain was too much. When I drew my hand back from my head I heard people gasp and looked down to see that my whole hand was covered in blood.

The second after this moment happened I looked over to see the friend I had run into with a hand over his mouth and his two shiny white front teeth lying in pieces on the grassy ground and I felt the blood running down my forehead like water from a fountain. I figured correctly that his teeth had hit my head and broke his teeth. Fortunately, a few quicker boys had already run up to grab one of the recess ladies to help us both to the office. Oh my gosh I am going to die were the only thoughts running through my mind as I saw the lady approach us.

“What happened here?” asked the lady slowly making her towards us.

As my friends rushed to be the first to explain, I started walking over to the stairs that would get me to the building and eventually to the nurse’s office. Unfortunately, the slow lady insisted that I walk with her into the building so we began our sluggish ascent up the stairs and into the school. When we finally arrived at the nurses office I was sure I would die from blood lose, and the nurse’s reaction to seeing me did not help my opinion. I saw the color drain out of her face and her hands go to her mouth. The lunch lady, now out of breathe sat down and said,

“Call his parents quick and see if they can get to the hospital in time.”

The nurse sprung into action after calling my worried dad from his office and quickly came over with a wet paper towel to clean my forehead and make sure I didn’t have any teeth in the gaping hole in my sore head. I don’t remember anything after that because the next thing I knew I was speeding down the road to the local ER in the back of my dad’s Volvo.
We arrived at the ER in what seems like a lifetime, but in reality, was only about half an hour. This was not the first or even second time I had been here so it was not as scary as it had been the first few times. Even so I was thankful my dad had been there for me when I was sure I would die. The nurse at the front desk seeing me with the hole in my head directed us almost immediately to another nurse who appeared with a clipboard full of questions to ask about me. I did not see the importance in these as I waited impatiently for my dad to answer the questions.
After about ten minutes she said in a very bored sounding voice,

“Alright this way please,” and directed me to my very own hospital room where they quickly told me to lie still and wait for my doctor to come in and see me.

My dad tried to keep the mood light with whatever joke he could think of off the top of his head and it entertained little nine year old me until the doctor arrived.

“Okay then, lets see how bad it really is,” he said and removed the bandage from the deep cut on my forehead. I winced but didn’t say anything.

“It will need stitches and its pretty deep so we had better make sure there aren’t any teeth in your head before we close it up, so we will have to give you an X-ray,” he told my father and I. I just wanted to get out of here so I groaned.

The nurses were very efficient and got me in and out of the X-ray room in no time at all after finding out I didn’t have any teeth where there shouldn’t be teeth. When we arrived back at the hospital room, I saw my doctor lining up a trio of long needles on a tray next to my bed and immediately, my heart sank.

“What are those for?” I asked in a weak voice.

“For the shots I have to give you to numb your cut so it doesn’t hurt when I give you the stitches.” He answered in a nonchalant voice.

So I settled back down on the bed and watched as the man picked up the needles and one by one stabbed them into my open wound. I didn’t think anything could hurt more than those needles being pressed into my head since each felt like a small knife was being stabbed into my venerable flesh. I fought back tears as the doctor told me it would take a few minutes for the medicine in the needles to start working. I told my dad that I had to go to the bathroom and he told me to look in the mirror when I got there to check out the huge hole in my head. As soon as I got there I looked in the mirror and saw what at first seemed to be a normal reflection looking back at me, that is until I saw the hole I now sported in the upper left hand corner of my forehead. I could probably see right through to my skull if I kept looking but at that moment I thought I was going to laugh and cry at the ridiculousness of it all. I returned to the hospital bed and waited for the doctor to give me the first stitches of my life. As he walked in, I got the feeling that something would go horribly wrong and I would have to come back and have this happen all again. This thought quickly passed when the doctor closed in saying,

“This will only be a few seconds so hold still.”

He was right because just a few seconds later, I was back in the bathroom now looking at the eight stitches etched into my forehead.

My dad already had his jacket on when I walked back into the room making it clear he intended to get out of that room, and I didn’t argue with him! In about two minutes we were cleared to go and were speeding down the freeway back to the comforts of home. School was over by now so my sisters and brother were there checking out the stitches, but something else was there too… My Friends! Three of my friends who played football with me that afternoon were camped on my front porch making sure I came back to my house alive! Seeing them brought a smile longer than the Mississippi river to my face and capped off the craziest day of my life. We talked for a little and then I said goodbye and they walked home. My friends waiting at my door showed me that friendship lasts, even when they think you might be dead they are still your friends.

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alkmek said...
May 25, 2010 at 2:02 pm
the best story ever...even tho I'm not a football fan!
amykochert said...
May 25, 2010 at 1:56 pm
great story david!
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