I trip. I fall. I run into things. Have done since I was wee. I could make falling up the stairs an Olympic sport.
My Mom calling the Doctor's office, "But it won't stop bleeding!!"
"I'm sorry Ma'am, unless it's mostly severed, it'll have to heal by itself."
"But there's so much blood!"
"Ma'am, unless the tongue is barely attached, we can't really do anything."
"MOOOOOOOM!!! Heather's bleeding to death!" screams my brother Michael.
"I can't tell if she still has a leg!"
Kim Hickey's father, as I was waiting for Kim to get ready to catch the bus. "Run into any poles lately?"
"Kim told me that you ran into a pole yesterday at school."
Kim, coming out of her room, "Heather, you ran straight into one of the support poles yesterday." She turns me toward the hall mirror. She lifts up my bangs off my forehead. I am bruised. I have no recollection of the event having occured. This might explain why my brain, she doesn't work the way she should.
The custodian, looking at my position, shaking his head. "How did you get there?"
"I was sliding down the railing."
"But how did your leg get there?"
"I think it slipped."
"I'm going to need a crowbar."
"Heather! Watch out for the...!"
"HOLY MOTHER OF..."
"Are you okay?"
Rubbing my breast bone, where I have just run into a parking meter. "Sweet merciful...."
The triage nurse, "You're lucky you didn't break your neck."
"Usually I'm a very safe diver. I was just trying to take my bathing suit off when I was in the water."
The nurse looks at me.
"It was going to be a very effective entrance."
"What did you do?" David asks.
"I gave myself the heimlich carrying this stupid chair."
"How is that even possible?"
"I was distracticated."
"How were you carrying it?"
The room turns my way.
"Sorry... sorry! Carry on, it's okay."
"I might just possibly have opened my ass on the metal arm of the chair. I'm good, I'm good. There's no blood."
Encased in my sweater, pretending to be a ninja, I prepare for a surprise attack on Rissa, flinging my arms open wide.
"OW! OW!OW!OW! OOOOOOOW!!!"
"What did you do?" asks Rissa, eyebrows raised in a near-maternal expression.
"I hit the corner of the stupid newel post!"
"Were you trying to be dramatic?"
"It was going to be funny!"
"Why are you on the floor?"
"I was chasing the cat."
"In your socks?"
"It needed to be done."
"Let me get the drywall out of your arm."