It was around the 4th of July in 1993. I was less than a month away from turning 7. After having run errands as a family all day, my dad decides to give me a bath. I didn't really care one way or the other, & just viewed the whole ordeal as something to be tolerated. As he was drawing the bath, I got it into my creative brain that it would be a good idea to dance on the toilet. I put the lid down & started a'movin' & a'groovin'. Until the lid shifted & I felt & hit my head on the bowl.
That's right. I fell off the toilet & hit my head on it.
My dad, living in a constant state of confusion, didn't really know what had happened. My mother, who had been changing clothes, ran into the bathroom topless (I wasn't unconscious. Yet.) & yelled, "He's bleeding!" My dad said, "Where?" & my mom yelled, "His face!"
Sure enough, there was a big cut directly next to my eye that was gushing blood. My parents knew a nurse in town so they called her up to see if she could give them an opinion about whether or not I needed stitches. I was going in & out of consciousness, but I remember the nurses kids staring at me like I was a retard (duh).
It was decided I needed to go to the hospital, because no shit. I don't remember too much after that except speeding to the hospital (don't remember who was driving) & going into the bathroom at the hospital & looking in the mirror & being able to see bone. But apparently what happened that I don't remember was my parents getting the third degree about how I got the injury. The doctors & nurses couldn't believe that I would dance on the toilet. In fact, they were going to call DCFS on my parents because they were so sure that my parents had abused me. It wasn't until I semi-consciously confirmed the story that they backed-off & realized that yes, I am that weird.
And I still have that scar today. Some people think it's a dimple because as I grew up my face stretched out. But a few people know the truth.
God, I'm such a moron.
2 comments:
Your bravery in writing this is inspiring.
I had stitches on my pinky from cutting it open on a rusty pocket knife. My dad was drinking and took me to the hospital. He told the nurse that I was "an idiot" and that was that.
Weird.
I'm glad I can help inspire others by not being embarrassed to relay a story of my idiocy.
It's really humorous that they didn't make a big deal about your incident. I guess they have to pick their battles & that was one they didn't feel like fighting.
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