Today's story is one of my favorite ones to tell even though it has left me scarred for life.
This story takes place in 1995 when I was seventeen, but I'd like to preface this story and go back to 1983 when I was five. I was still getting some of my immunization shots. My mom had to drag me kicking and screaming out of the car because I had learned to recognize the building that you go to where they stick you with sharp objects for no other reason than to make you cry. That's how it looks to a five year old anyway. I won't use his real name, but I'll refer to him as Dr. Spooner. If you knew his real name you'd understand why I just called him that. Anyway, Dr. Spooner was the one who gave me all my shots when I was little. He may as well have been the devil.
Okay, fast forward to 1995. I'm in the back yard practicing my golf swing using a 7-iron. My sister, who was 5 or 6 at the time came into the back yard and said she wanted to hit the ball. I told her no, these are not toys. So she did what any little sister would do, she told mom. "He won't let me hit the ball!" My mom came out and said "Just let her try it one time." "One time"...those are two words I'll never forget.
So I bend down to set the golf ball on the tee. As I'm doing this I say "Now wait until I move before you..." *WHACK!* I never finished that sentence. I don't know how long I blacked out, but it must have only been a few seconds because when I got up off the ground my sister was still standing there, golf club in hand with a look of shock on her face. Blood was flowing from my brow. I walked into the house being careful not to get blood on the floor or on my shirt (which should have been the least of my worries) and yelled, "MOM! She hit me!"
I stood over the kitchen sink while my mom came down to see what happened. She made an ice pack for me and then drove me to the emergency room. I don't remember being in any pain until I had to sit in the waiting room. It seemed like all the pain I should have felt after getting hit caught up with itself once I sat down in the waiting room. It felt like my head was expanding to twice it's size and then returning to it's normal size every few seconds.
The doctor showed up and said "Hi, I'm Dr. Spooner" I immediately started having flashbacks and started shouting "El Diablo! El Diablo!" and making the symbol of a cross with my index fingers. I don't know why I was shouting in Spanish. Okay, I didn't actually shout "El Diablo!" and make a cross with my fingers, but all I could think of was my childhood nightmare had returned.
WARNING:
The following paragraph is not for the faint of heart or people with weak stomachs. If you get queasy easily then I suggest you stop reading, otherwise, grab a bucket or have a wastecan nearby.
I went back into the ER and Dr. Spooner decided I was due for my tetanus shot. So he gave me the tetanus shot and another shot to numb the pain because he was about to sew my face back together. He put a sheet of paper, kind of like tissue paper over my face and there was a little hole cut out of it that was big enough for my eye. I could have closed my eyes but I decided to watch what he was doing. The anesthetic worked very well because only thing I felt was a slight tug, but no pain as he took a needle and sewed my wound shut. The needle was less than an inch from my eye as he worked. By the time he was done it looked like I had an eyebrow extension.
The next morning I was still in a lot of pain and I missed school because the eye that was hit swelled up so much that I could barely see out of my other eye. Some blood vessels broke in the eye that was hit and the white of my eye had turned completely red. The swollen part of my face turned purple. I looked worse than Sloth from the Goonies.
Maybe I'm exaggerating I went to church that Sunday and some of the kids from Sunday school saw me and were pretty freaked out. After church was over the kids from Sunday school presented me with an eye-patch they made out of string and black construction paper. It was a very thoughtful gift.
My friend started a rumor that I had gotten into a fight with one of the football players. When I explained to one of my teachers what had happened he would ask me every so often if I was buying a set of golf clubs for my sister for Christmas. Generally when people would see me they would say "Oh geez, what happened to you?" as if they had been completely knocked off guard when they saw me.
It took a few months to completely heal. The thing that took the longest was the white of my eye to become white again. I am left with a pretty good scar (pictured below). I know my mom has a picture somewhere of me a day or two after I was hit. If I find it I will update this post and let you know.
I am thankful that my scar is the only thing I am left with after this whole incident. I could have lost an eye, gotten severe brain damage, possibly even killed. I feel that God was protecting me from those things. Some of you might ask "If God was protecting you, then why did he let you get hit with a golf club in the first place?" I'm not gonna get into too much deep detail, (today is Tuesday, not Thursday) but I'll just say that I'm glad God doesn't coddle us every minute of every day otherwise we'd all be a bunch of babies.
No comments:
Post a Comment