Maybe I should have titled this post 'Accident Prone Is as Accident Prone Does'...because not all of my unfortunate accidents are my fault. Things just tend to happen to me. Granted, some of it does come about through general clumsiness...but not all of it, y'know?
But in my defence, and as I stated above, things do tend to happen to me. As I type this I have a heavily bandaged right foot. Bandaged in three places, mind. But we'll get to that. We'll get to that. Here, for your entertainment, are some of my more bizarre/ridiculous accidents over the years...
- Aged seven, brushing my teeth with my sister. She threatened to tickle me and I ran from the bathroom to our bedroom, toothbrush still in my mouth, and jumped onto my bed. The toothbrush hit the pillow, jammed into my throat and when I pulled it out there was a literal explosion of blood, which jetted out of my mouth with such force that it hit the wall. Colourful. And very fun for my parents to discover when they rushed in to see what all the screaming was about.
- Still aged seven (a good year), being pulled along by my sister on Dad's golf buggy. The plastic handle cover pulled off in her hand, the buggy fell forwards with me on it and the exposed metal of the handle stabbed me in the chest and sunk in about a centimetre. Ouch.
- Broken toes...many, many, many. The same one three times, as well. Varied causes...tripping, accidentally whacking it on a table, etc. Clumsy is as clumsy does. ("But you seem so graceful when you dance!" people say. Am yet to break a toe while performing or teaching bellydance, and am able to maintain the appearance of grace. I have, however, performed WITH a broken toe. And painkillers.)
- Okay, so the following was my fault. Aged 17...to amuse my flatmate I stood on two glossy magazines and 'skated' across the carpet. Lost control, fell, broke wrist. Yep, that was a bit silly.
- Last week...making soaps, accidentally splashed myself with boiling water. Leapt backwards, tripped over Johnny the dog, crashed into the cupboard and broke my long-suffering little toe on my right foot. One day I will wake up and this toe will have jumped ship in the night and left me. I can't blame it...since the age of 7 it's been broken at least 6 times, by my count.
- Also last week, a day later...I dropped a butter knife which, though blunt, hit my right ankle at enough speed and at the right angle to gouge it open. That was bandage no. 2 on that foot area. Are you keeping count? Let's get to the main event...
So it was Saturday night. I was home alone- apart from the dogs and my broken toe. At about 10 o'clock, I heard barking. The dogs were outside and I hobbled out to investigate with bare feet. I realised that it was actually the neighbour's dog making the noise, and turned to go back inside. Ouch! What the hell? Something stabbed into my right heel. Something sharp. It was very painful and I lifted my foot to see a piece of metal sticking out of my foot. Okay, not good, I thought. Where did that come from? And it's in my foot...Right, that has to come out. Sizzling the air with a few rather colourful words, I yanked it out and realised that a) my foot was now bleeding quite heavily, which was understandable given that there was a gaping hole in it, and b) I had been stabbed by a rusty nail. Given that I was home alone and didn't think I could drive, I had no option but to wrap up my foot, call a taxi and head to the emergency room. Five hours later I was home, after spending a lot of time waiting and reading tattered, year-old copies of Woman's Day, witnessing some horrendous drunken behaviour, crying quietly in a cubicle as I felt so alone, and having my wound cleaned and sealed with surgical glue. I also received a large and nasty tetanus booster and was told I was a 'brave girl' by the same nurse who had come bustling in with scratchy tissues when she saw that I was crying. Slightly condescending, yes, especially since that at a few years shy of 30 I wouldn't really call myself a girl, but by that point I was willing to take any sympathy I could get.
So, now I languish on the couch with a right foot that has suffered a broken bone, a gouging and a stabbing in the last week. I'm sorry, right foot. I'll do my best to take better care of you in the future, but I can't promise anything. Accidents just seem to have a way of finding me.