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Wall 1 / Auburnchick 0

Oh Tuesday, can I please get a do-over?

Y’all, I promise you that I do not wake up in the morning, decide that I need something entertaining for my blog, and then purposely walk into trouble.

Somehow, the Universe just knows that things need to be spiced up and BAM, life happens.

So Tuesday.

I slept in.  Duh.  It’s summer vacation.

I got up, dressed for my workout, and headed out the door.  I needed to pay the water bill, run to the grocery store, and stop by my school to ask an administrator a couple of questions.

My agenda really was simple.

In theory.

I got my first two tasks done without any issues and headed to the school.

Y’all, I should have gone back home.

I chit chatted with a couple of teachers, popped my head in to say hello to an administrator (not the one I had gone to talk to), and then decided to run back in and say one more thing to one of the teachers I’d seen earlier.

I waved goodbye, turned to head out, and found myself stopped in my tracks . . .

By the corner of a cement wall.

Oh yes I did.

I’d forgotten that some of the classrooms have walls that jut out.

I knew I’d hit it pretty hard because I got a headache instantly.

I put my hand up to my forehead, and when I pulled it back, there was blood on my fingers.

Oh word, but this was not looking good.

I quickly walked to the bathroom in the main office, and when I looked into the mirror, I was stunned.

Oh yes I did.

I’d hit myself squarely in the middle of my forehead, along with my nose and mouth. I am fortunate that I didn’t break my nose.

I was in a lot of pain and wasn’t sure if I needed to get it stitched up.

I walked back to the classroom my friend was in and called for her to come out.  She ambled out until she saw my head and said, “OMG.”

It was bad.

We walked to the office together and raided the nurse’s stash of gauze and tape but then began a quick discussion about what I should do . . . stitches or not?  We decided to ask the opinion of the administrator I’d talked to earlier.

I was mortified and started crying again.  It was all just so embarrassing.

Of course, because I’m Auburnchick and have NO luck whatsoever, the administrator had an office full of people.

So I had to let all of them see me with my forehead like that.  She’s got grown children and grandchildren and has been in education awhile.  She’s seen a lot.

She immediately told me that I needed stitches but advised me to go to our wellness clinic (my district offers this to its employees) to let them check.

Megan bandaged me up before I left.

I think if teaching doesn’t work out for her, she should go into the medical profession.  Mad skills, y’all.

Y’all, I had a bag full of groceries in the car, and I still was undecided about my next course of action.  I didn’t want to go to the ER, and I didn’t want to go to my doctor (I’m going to find a new one because she was very rude to me during my last appointment).

I drove to the wellness clinic but called the Mr. on the way.  He hadn’t seen the pictures I’d sent from the school yet, and at first, he thought I was kidding.

He called me back a few minutes later after he got the pictures and was not a happy guy.

He informed me that I am more of a danger to myself than anything else.

Ya think?

He hung up but then called back with the name of a plastic surgeon he wanted me to call.  Then, the Mr. sent me this message . . .

It’s a good thing I wasn’t feeling good because that husband of mine would have gotten sucker punched the next time I saw him.  Turd.

I looked up the number and bless their hearts, they asked if I could be there in thirty minutes.

Living in Podunk City has its benefits.  I was able to drive home, throw my perishables in the refrigerator, apply deodorant (because it’s summer and I might have forgotten earlier), and make it to the doctor’s office.

When I pulled up, I saw the Mr.’s car in the lot.

Bless his heart.

He is a good man.  I had not asked him to meet me there, but he did anyway.

He shook his head when he saw me.

Now, you have to understand something.  At that point, we were a hot mess of a couple.  He was sporting his own bandages.  Last week, he had a bit of skin cancer removed from his face – his first ever – and he’d had stitches and was still covered up.

Bless both of our hearts!

The doctor’s office was hopping.  The nurse told me that I was lucky that they were there.  He’s not always in the office.  He’s a busy doctor in these here parts, you see.

So yeah, I guess I can get lucky every now and then, or rather, I’ll say that God orchestrated that because I don’t believe in luck.

As soon as the doctor saw my head, he ordered the Mr. out of the room, announcing, “We’re doing surgery – right now – and you can’t be in here.”  He was very concerned about infection as well.

Boy, that chair went back fast, and the doctor stuck the numbing needle with the warning that it would hurt.

After living through a triple ankle fracture, it was nothing.

Perspective is everything.

I’d never met this doctor before; I was in for a treat.  He talked to me the entire time.  He cussed a lot.


I kept telling him how stupid I felt.

He said, “Sh$t happens.  You get through it.  The important thing is that you live.”

He must have said, “Sh$t happens” numerous times.  That was going to be the title of this post, but I didn’t want to offend anyone.

How true were his words, though.

I told him I was going to write a blog post about this, and he laughed.

He even counted the stitches for me

Ten, y’all.  Because I’m an overachiever.


Before he put my bandage on, he told me to take a picture for my blog.

Notice all of that swelling?  I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that I’d hit that wall hard.  I am so fortunate that I didn’t break my nose.  It hurt like crap!

I asked if I had a concussion because my neck was hurting, and I was very nauseous.  He said that he didn’t think so since I wasn’t throwing up or having seizures, but he advised me to stay awake for the afternoon.

Good thing he said that because I was ready to go home and take a nap.

I got a flesh-colored bandage that won’t need to be changed because it’s shower-proof.

He prescribed some amped up Motrin and an antibiotic and advised me to apply ice to it when I got home.

He also told me that I couldn’t work out for TWO WHOLE DAYS.  That was the worst part about the entire thing!  I told him that I had rings to close.  He didn’t understand what I was talking about.

Meanwhile, he started chatting with the Mr. and noticed his homemade bandage job, as did the nurse.  Well, they couldn’t have that, and they made him sit in the chair and fixed him up with a new one – one that was waterproof.  Then, they proceeded to talk for a long time about people they both knew.

The doctor liked us.  He told us that we now had VIP cards to his office – if we ever needed anything just to call.

Networking – silver linings, y’all.

Finding joy in the journey continues to be my mantra, it would seem.

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