I’ve mentioned before that I’m a clumsy person. I always have been. Fortunately I managed to get through most of my life without getting too many scars as a result. The few scars I do have are from burns, surgery, a poke by a cat claw, and one on the top of my left foot. I know that scar on top of my foot is there. I see it every single day but I don’t really think about it. I mean, I’ve had it since 1986. (Whoa, that makes me feel old.) However, I was reminded of it this morning when my sister, Jeanne, tweeted something about a blind falling. It made me cringe and pull my foot back.
You see… I just got out of school and was spending time with Jeanne & her family the summer before I turned 12. I was helping my nephew, Aaron, clean his bedroom. He was just a little guy at the time, barely 3 years old. He had these large, metal venetian blinds in his room. Aaron thought pulling on the strings was way more fun than cleaning. I was doing something by his bed when all of a sudden I heard “CRASH!” The blind fell off its bracket, down my shin & onto my foot. It started bleeding. A lot.
I hobbled into the bathroom to clean the blood off my leg and foot when I saw it – an image I’ll never be able to erase from my memory, something white on the top of my foot in the middle of a very large gash. SO gross. I screamed so loud. Jeanne’s hubby came flying into the bathroom to see what made me let out such a blood curdling scream. I don’t remember how my foot got wrapped or how I got to the car from the bathroom but I do remember the car ride. They were just getting around to paving the road that Jeanne & her family lived on. Instead of having me endure the bumps of the dirt road, her hubby switched lanes back & forth to stay on the pavement. I know that normal 20 minute ride to the hospital took nowhere near 20 minutes. Next thing I knew I was getting a shot, 6 stitches, some bandages and crutches. The doctor said the blind nicked the tendon on the top of my foot and I had 3 large scrapes on my shin.
I was able to get the stitches out just before the 4th of July festivities in my home town. The doctor told me, “No running for 2 weeks!” C’mon. How do you expect an 11 year old not to run? I forgot on the 4th of July and ran across the street to get money from mom for some something I neeeeeeded. I felt a little twinge and stopped quick but it was too late. I ended up stretching the skin, making the scar wider than it should have been.
A week later I went up to my childhood bestie’s house. She lived about 1/4 mile up the hill on the rez. Mom was really strict about me getting home on time and I was running late. I realized I only had a couple minutes to get down the hill so I jumped on my brown banana seat bike and flew down the hill. I was about 3/4 of the way home when suddenly both the bike & I were skidding on our sides down the road. It wasn’t that far, 10-12 feet maybe, but it felt like forever. My body came to a stop right in front of my friend Tweetie’s house. I got up & ran over to her house, crying just hard. The left side of my body had some serious road rash. Tweetie opened the door, helped me get cleaned up & bandaged then walked my hobbling self & my bike the rest of the way back to my house.
That sucked. I was crying because I hurt. Crying because I was late and didn’t want to get in trouble. Crying because I knew I was going to spend more of the summer in bandages. I think I was finally running around bandage free just in time for the pow-wow, the 4th weekend of July. Thank goodness I don’t have any visible scars from that… just the emotional trauma that comes with skidding down the road, feeling like you’re never ever, going to stop.
Man. That was the worst summer ever.