So, I scraped myself up pretty bad today. Note: this is a "Thing that happened to me today" post, expect no existentialism. Probably. I was playing frisbee with my friends after school today, and because there was a football match on on the grass, we had to play on the asphalt. So, frisbee-ing went well, fun times all around, we even messed with a boomerang I had found a few days prior, Nobody could get it to go around or nuthin' <:[ . So there was a scuffle for the frisbee at one point. This occurs when the frisbee lands at the feet of two or more people, and it's a shoving/kicking competition to see who can get the frisbee. This occurred between Sam and Shane, and I decided to join in. So there was a shufflin' and a kickin', but eventually, the frisbee rolled out, and I, sensing my oppurtunity, ran forth at full pelt, crouching over to pick up the frisbee. And pick it up I did. Hunched over in victory, I sensed pursuers hot on the heels of my new trophy, so I elected to fling it back to Alex, who threw it in the first place. So mustering the last of my strength, I wound up and flung it forward, going into a slight spin. At this point I realized that I was hunched over going at full pelt and starting to spin, my centre of gravity about firmly three feet in front of me. So I braced for a crash, and thrust my arms out to protect my face, and my hands scraped off the rocks, and I did a bit of a flip, and then all was silent. And then all was laughter. Brian was rolling around on the floor, Sam was coming over to see if I was ok, and I began laughing at what was no doubt a hilarious thing to see. I looked down at my hands, and noticed patches of skin had been peeled back or gouged out, with dark crimson blood slowly oozing out. I rolled around a little, as one does when they are in pain, and then got to my feet. Checked my knee, which had two large black/red swathes, shiny with fresh blood and grime. At this stage, I was still laughing, and didn't take much notice of the damage, I mean, it really wasn't that bad, a case of "Road Rash", as my dad used to call it. Everyone literally ROFL-ing, and I adamantly declared "I may have to go to hospital, but I caught that damned frisbee, let it be known!"
I headed off to the bathroom to wash up, and then gingerly biked home, with bruised palms and knees. Once at home, I washed myself up in the shower, and then applied some bandages, and then recieved a phone call from my piano teacher. I was 10 mins late for my last lesson. I quickly hobbled over to the churchtown school of music, and played in plastered hands, which wasn't that bad. Upon returning home, I filled in my mom on the details, and she ominously foretold that it would have to be cleaned "Properly", a grim prophecy that would no doubt involve cheap vodka. I forgot to mention, I howled at hollered while cleaning my leg up, real men can cry out in pain and still be manly (Grr. I'm manly. See?). After sufficient procrastination, I volunteered for this "Properly". I knew it had to be done, there was still dirt in the wounds, and nobody likes infections. So up to the shower we went, and I stripped down (Moderately), when she produced soap, scissors, and a needle. We washed it, cut off loose skin (surprisingly not that bad), and then, underneath running water, I began the delicate operation of picking out dirt from my wound with a sharp implement. Bizzare feeling, really. It bears mention that I also whooped and hollered while doing this. Then, as prophesied, out came the cheap vodka. This stung like crazy. I covered my eyes with one arm, leaned on the wall for support with the other, and clenched my teeth as my hands and knee blazed with wrath at their suffering. Then my mom plastered me up like a good nurse, aww. Shoutout to Nicole who had an infected knee before, so I'll probably come running to her sooner rather than later. She also threatened to attack me with antiseptic wipes if I didn't clean it properly. She's wonderful :)
"Ooops! Zat vas not medicine" - Medic, team fortress 2
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2 years ago