This is a story of trauma and blood. Are you up to it? Ok, then.
I was in either 8th or 9th grade; can't exactly remember which one although I know for sure it wasn't 7th. I'll explain that later.
Here's the scene: outdoor gym class - soccer. A player on the opposing team (husky gal that put all her weight into a kick) put the ball into a beeline toward my head. I'm sure she wasn't aiming at me (I don't think so, anyway) and I'll never understand why I was bending over but I was and she wasn't very far from me so that sucker packed a wallop.
Right into my eye.
I'm sure I squealed like a girl and clamped a hand over my eye while I ran up the the teacher.That part is a little hazy; traumatic ya know. She told me to go to the locker room (not sure what the purpose of that directive was; probably to get me out of her face) so I ran all the way there and down the stairs into the basement locker room.
There was a big-ass mirror in the room and I remember thinking, "I'm definitely going to have a black eye. How cool will that be?" So I walked up real close to the mirror and opened my eyes. I couldn't see out of one of them (guess which one) because . . . . IT WAS COVERED IN BLOOD!
Commence screaming and running. Back outside to report the injury (in a high pitched voice) to the teacher. I don't remember a lot after that except mom came to pick me up and take me to dad's office. He was a doctor.
Dad put me on the exam table, turned out the lights and looked into my eye with his little light thingy. He got nose to nose with me and stayed there for what felt like 39 minutes and then . . . . said, "Oh, shit."
Nice, huh. Apparently my retina was hanging by a thread and any movement could cause it to completely detach.
Remember how I did all that running and screaming? Yeah.
My biggest concern and my only question to dad was, "Does this mean I can't cheer at the game tonight?" The whole cheering thing is how I know it was either 8th or 9th grade because those losers didn't pick me for the 7th grade squad. I showed them - I went on to an illustrious career as a cheerleader right until I graduated from high school. So there!
Back to the eye. I walked on eggshells with mom's assistance out to the car from dad's office and did the same thing as we got home. Into bed I went and had to lie there for what seemed like 39 days (what's with the number 39?) and when I needed to sit up, mom would come in and pull me slowly by the arms into a sitting position.
How's that for trauma and blood? Stay tuned, there may be more of the same. I've been through a lot.
Oh, I almost forgot. I recovered nicely. No eye issues.