Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Stitch My Head Up! Part I


When I was little kid sometime before six years old, I was sent to the hospital after accidentally opening my hole at the top of my head.

My parents had a habit of hiding sweets. You know the drill. Your parents notice that you are eating too much sweets. So they tried to keep it from your short self by hiding it in the top shelf of the cabinet. That's what their intent until my parents later on knew that I was getting better at climbing each passing day.

I was getting better at climbing. I was just fascinated at climbing things. I guess when you grow up a short person, you do your best to excel in a lot of things. That way, when you get to a particular age, you prove you can be as better as the tall people.

One night, I decided to get some cookies by climbing the sink, which was right below the kitchen cabinet that contained the sweets. I looked at it as a very simple task. I climb to the top of the cabinet. I find the sweets. I grab a few. Then I run for the hills before my mom takes a break talking to her sisters in the front.

I climbed the sink and reached the cabinet. Before I could reach in after it was opened, my foot slipped on the wet metal sink. I quickly caught my balance before I was seconds away from falling down. As I swiftly began to stand up, I completely forgot in the moment that the tip of the cabinet door was literally on top of me. So once my head rose up, the tip of the cabinet pierced my head, opening a large hole on the inside.

I landed on my back when I reached the floor. I didn't feel any pain, but every time I touched my head, I did feel the large gap in my head. I got up, ran up to the bathroom and there in the mirror was the physical showing of what happens when you tried to climb a kitchen cabinet.

My parents came into the room and immediately freaked out. They grabbed their stuff, put me in the car, and immediately took me to the hospital. They gave me my Flintstones imprinted wash cloth to cover my head. There was still no pain and not a lot of blood. The blood stayed in my head like the water in a well. It wasn't going anywhere.

I wasn't scared. My parents were the ones worried. I just wondering how interesting it was to walk around with a open wound in my head. It now reminds of an old Family Guy episode.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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