On my way home from work, I had my little sister following me on her bike. She was carrying her golf clubs on her back. She kept telling me, "Please go the easiest way home!"
I decided to go down shiloh road, which was one of the main roads that had a bike trail. I had forgotten that (for some odd reason) there was construction going on this road. As my sister and I were crossing the street to get on the bike trail, I saw a contruction sign that was set right in the middle of the sidewalk. Luckily there was a house with a gravel driveway that allowed me to go around the bike construction sign. As I was trying to get back on the sidewalk from the other side of the gravel driveway, I didn't turn my bike hard enough to get over the big lip on the sidewalk that was higher than the gravel driveway, and with that my bike went the oppostie way of my body and I slide over the nicely scraped gravel road.
A construction worker was the first one to get to me as I tried to get up, but failed miserably. My little sister kept yelling my name from the sidewalk. I hobbled back to the sidewalk with the help of a the construction worker. The man who lived in the house that we used the driveway, came out and started to check my wounds. My hand was bleeding and I also had some scrapes on my left foot. The man was a missionary and part of a local evangelist church called "Jump for Jesus". There was a huge ramp in there backyard and they met every Sunday to watched their pastor fly off the ramp and through a ring of fire! So while the missionary was pouring water over my bleeding hand, he was telling me all about his church and inviting me to come to the meetings . It was while he was telling me thisthat I noticed that it wasn't water that was running down my leg and was pooling in my shiny purple ballet flats. I looked down to see blood coming from under my pant leg, and seeing how much blood there was made me not want to look under my pant leg at all. After finally began to feel pain from that spot, I asked the gentleman if he could look at my knee. He told me to look away and after he looked at it, he quickly waved over his friend and said to me, " I'm going to let my friend look at it, he use to be a paramedic."
That's when the friend said, "Yep, that's gonna need stitches."
That was when I finally began to weep. I have a severe fear of needles- or in other words, belonephobia. Just the thought of using medical needles make me bawl. It was at this time that my mother pulled up into the driveway. She saw me bawling and after being told I would need stitches she knew I wasn't crying because of the pain.
It was after six, so instead of being able to go to my regular doctor, my mother decided to take me to the emergency room. They put me in a wheel chair, gauze and bandaged me up, took x-rays- the whole sha-bang. Made me take off my pants and wear one of those moo-moo looking things. My mom, dad and little sister were making jokes about how I'm the reason for health insurance and that I'm just a glutten for punishing myself. Both are true so I was giggling along with them.
Dr. Toby and the nurses sometimes weren't as humored by our jokes, but overall they thought we were an interesting family. Dr. Toby stop most of the funny-business when after I had specifically told him I was severely afraid of needles, he decided that I needed a numbing shot in the huge gash on my knee. I wonder how many times he has seen a 19-year-old cry, because I was crying like I was 5-years-old and the world was about to end. After it was done, my body had stopped pumping adrenaline into my system and I was feeling very drowsy. It was almost like the feeling I got after my High school varsity games when I would play the full 90 minutes. I felt the pressure of the hook needle going around the gash in my knee, and all I could do was lie on the medical bed and hold my mom's hand.
Another funny thing that happened was Kenton's reaction to the whole ordeal. After I had recognized there was blood(instead of water) flowing down my leg, I sat down, took off my shoe (and set it next to my leg) and took a picture of my leg and shoe. I promptly sent him a pix message with no words. I later found out that my father had called and left him a message after finding out that I had been in an accident, because my dad assumed that Kenton, being one of my best friends, would be with me. My dad only said on the voice message, " If you're with Kailey, and you have your oil, give her a blessing." Ironically Kenton was asleep and driving down to Utah when all this was going on, but he was sure shocked when he finally awoke from his deep slumber.
Of course he called my dad first =P, and my dad concocted a story about how I had wanted to do the "Jump for Jesus" thing to show my faith, but I hadn't realized that I should use a motorcycle instead of a bike when going on the ramp. So when I did call Kenton after I got out of the emergency room, he told me, " Tell me what happened so I can tell you how stupid you are." Oh, I felt the love.
In the end, I'm glad I'm still on my parents health insurance. The whole ordeal was fun, and I ended up with my favorite drug for killing my pain: Hydrocodone =). Watching movies and getting sleep is all I get! I mean, with my hand being all ripped up and my knee being almost unbendable, I haven't been able to participate in to many chores and events.Also my sisters are feeling hospitable and I received my first spongebath the other day. And the bruises and scars are going to help me create great stories in the future; "Well kids, mom use to wrestle lions and one day they kinda beat her up." The look on their faces; Priceless.
