Shan Went "BAM!"

I, Shan, had a big 'ol "BAM!," right on top of my head.

Me and the three boys are at a park with some friends and their kids. Isaac doesn't want to share his Transformers, I try to talk to him, he runs away. I don't want to make a big screaming scene, so I decide I should run after him playfully, grab him, and then talk to him in private. I don't get too far into this plan of action before it all falls apart.

Isaac goes down the slide, I follow. Isaac runs under the slide platform, I follow.  I duck, and think to my self "DO NOT COME UP TOO SOON!" But guess what? I totally do. And I totally knock myself to the ground.

I see black, I see stars, and I realize that I'm on all fours looking at wood chips. I comprehend that I am very embarrassed, and I'm very much in a lot of pain. I discern that a random Asian woman screamed in shock when I hit the steal beam, and that my two friends are asking me if I'm okay.

I get up, no longer in the "play mood" with Isaac, not so gently grab him by the arm (sorry dude!), and take him to the van to sit and chill out about the Transformers.

I walk back to my friends, still thinking that we can recover and make this a good playtime at the park. I'm asked if I'm okay, and say, "Yeah, but I feel like I've been scalped." I take off my hat, and the random Asian woman screams again, and my friends say, "Oh there is blood."

I try not to freak out, and friend Helen calmly starts to look at my head and through my hair. She finds the wound and says that there is a gash about an inch or 2 long. For me and my boys play time at the park is officially over.

My two friends (Helen and Jamie) help me gather our stuff, the two little boys (Eli and Titus), and help me to the car. I try to not cry in front of them, thank them for their help, and tell them that I'll let them know when I get home... That part is all a little bit of a blur, actually. Thankfully they were their to help! And poor random Asian woman. I think I scared her to death!

On the 4ish mile drive home I cry. Hard. I'm scared, I'm hurt, and Matt is not answering his phone. I know he is home but can't hear his phone, because 1) he is sanding the bunk-beds down, 2) he has his earphones in and listening to some rock music, and 3) he has a 10% hearing loss from Iraq. But I make it home, Matt takes on look at me and starts his military training. We rinse off the wound in the tub, and apply lots and lots of pressure.

That evening Matt about takes me to the ER on 4 or 5 different occasions to get staples or stitches. I said that I rather not, and lets just see how it goes. I was able to see a doctor that night, because my mother-in-law asked a doctor friend if he'd mind taking a look. I met him down at the Church building (I think he works with the Young Men of the Youth Group), and he told me the following:

• I could go either way with stitches. It'd only take 2 or 3 at the most. 
• If I don't get stitches the gash will leave a scar and no hair will grow there.
• If the scar bothers me, then later I can have the scar stitched up.
• I can't wash my head for 3 days, it help let the wound set and heal. 

Despite all of this, we actually had a lovely evening. Time spent together around the dinner table, eating penne noodles with red sauce and ground turkey...

And of course checking out Mommy's sweet, bloody owie!

As of right now I haven't gotten staples or stitches, my head still hurts, and my hair is a complete mess! 3 days without a washing is. not. good. Thanks to my dad, and his genes, I have a very greasy head. VERY! And the only hat I own is covered in blood, which is in the wash right now. So on top of this I don't want to workout, or run, so that my hair won't become even greaser. To sum up: I feel yucky, lazy, flabby, and head-achy.

And Isaac said that he'll now share his Transformers. Thanks dude.