The above picture tells a story much more important than the one I'm about to share. That is a photo of me and my late younger sister Susan. (Check out my sweet rainbow BandAid on my right knee.)
Extremely long story short, Susan died at six months after being born with a congenital heart defect. From birth, Susan had been in and out of hospitals and doctors' offices. You'll need that information for the following story to make sense and so that you can see the underlying humor in it.
In the spring of 1986, Mom had gone to a town craft fair, and left Dad alone with me and Susan for the afternoon. I went for a bike ride down the hill and only made it a few houses before my back tire slid in the sandy street and I fell onto the pavement. I was right outside of my friend's house and her mother, a nurse, ran outside to come to my aid. I remember she gave me two freeze pops - one for now, one for the car - and drove me back to my house.
After taking a look at my open wound, Dad packed up Susan and, after making a quick pit-stop at another doctor neighbor's house, he drove me to the hospital. We had a very professionally successful set of neighbors!
I remember sitting on the doctor's papered table in a pair of dirty shorts while Susan wailed in her carrier. "Um, excuse me! I'm the one getting three stitches in their knee!" Legend has it that I didn't shed a tear. Boom - nailed it.
Years later I was told that my mother received a message at the Senior Center where the craft fair was being held. The message was, "Jim brought your daughter to the hospital."
Understandable panic set in. In this case, unnecessary panic. I can't even imagine being my mom getting that message that afternoon. The individual that gave my mother this message probably realized soon after finishing that initial statement that they should be more clear. They clarified that Susan was fine; Trish just fell off her bike.
That being said, my mother stayed at the craft fair.
Don't worry about me. I'm just your first born child, bleeding all over the road, suffering from a popcicle-induced brain freeze.
I've teased my mother about this infamous day for many, many years. I don't mean to keep bringing it up, but I have a constant reminder on my knee. I'm legitimately scarred for life.
No comments:
Post a Comment