When I was a sophomore in high school, I woke up with a sore neck. It hurt to move it around. But, never the whiner, I got dressed and went to school. By third period, I couldn’t move it without pain and my friend said “OMG just go to the nurse!”
Turns out I had whiplash. I was grilled by the nurses about if I’d been in a car accident, are you sure?, where you joy riding with friends and don’t want to tell?
Nope. My mom’s theory is that it was sort of caused by carrying my little sister on my shoulders, then sleeping funny.
It makes sense. Sort of. But it’s still weird to say “I woke up with whiplash.”
Another time in high school, I was rushing to school and went to cut between two cars, only to slip on ice and fall. I had to explain to the nurse that I needed an ice pack for the lump on my head because I hit a car with my head. “You were in an accident?” No. “You were hit by a car?” No – I hit the car. With my head. Ice pack please?
As an adult, I went to light a match only to have it explode in my face. I burnt my eyeball. At least that was easier to explain and I got some numbing drops for my eyeball. I also ended up with tennis elbow from hefting Maura into her car seat too much. She was seven at the time.
Most recently is this –
That’s my right hand. In a splint.
See, I was unpacking a box of household cleaners. I obviously picked up something the wrong way and suddenly – ow. I somehow sprained my hand picking up one of those bottles in an odd manner. And because the sprain is so high up in my hand, the splint had to be that long. The splint is to remind me to not use that hand doing things like lifting boxes or furniture or whatnot.
The main thing I’ve learned so far? I kind of suck at being left handed.
I miss my right hand.