Dent

So last night, I run upstairs to grab something out of Tristan’s room in the dark. After bending over to pick the something up (tape, scissors, my memory), I quickly stood up and started to hustle out the door. Or at least that’s what I planned to do. Instead I whipped my head around directly into the solid piece of steel jutting from my son’s wall. It’s a piece of metal that is bolted to the stud in the wall, which we used to hold an bowling pin autographed by all of his friends from some birthday party.

The corner of this thing smacked me about two inches above my right eyebrow. It was stunning how much it hurt. When I looked in the mirror I discovered a dent in my head that looked like it could be used to unscrew my skull with a nickel.

A few minutes later the dent was gone, quickly replaced by a gi-normous lump.

I asked my wife if I should be worried about it. (She used to be an operating theater and trauma nurse). She said it wasn’t a big deal. Worse case it was a mild concussion, she said, and that just means bed rest.

Today my head throbs every time I raise my eyebrow up at the Internet. It has been a painful day.

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