I am currently a cyborg.
I have seven staples in the back of my head. They were put there, intentionally and under skilled hands, to help close the two-inch long and quarter-inch wide laceration that was being a bother.
No, I wasn't shot nor was it a saber blow.
Annie and I were at Brookdale, helping my cousin Jamie with a movie of his. There was one scene which took place near the doorway to the video department, which acted as the entrance to an office building. Two workers were coming in, supervised by a guard in BDUs standing his post. Annie was one, who skooted past the guard, but the other, a guy wearing a bright yellow tie, was stopped by the guard and shot for breaking the dress code. I was standing behind the cameras, wearing my red, Virginia mud-stained overalls, watching the whole thing transpire, when the guard in BDUs turned and pretended to spray me from his blue plastic electronic gatling gun. I took a hit, fell backwards, and bopped the wall.
It hurt... but like any head-against-wall bop. Annie came running over to check on me. I felt fine. She kissed my forehead, went to go to another take, and I reclined on the floor with my hands behind my head. After they called "cut", Annie came back and her look of concern turned to one of surprise and extreme concern. "You're bleeding, love," she said. I looked at my hand, and it was fairly covered in blood.
We went into the big handicapped men's bathroom to wash it out, but the sink didn't work, so we ran into the women's bathroom where she discovered that what I thought to be a scape was a 2" cut, which was about 1/4" wide.
I still didn't think it was really that bad. We went to see the school nurse, who wasn't in, then went over to the nursing department office. It was silly scene - Annie in a white dress shirt, black bowtie and long black skirt, and me in mud-plattered jeancloth overalls and jump boots telling the nursing professors about the gash in my head. They got a look, became extremely concerned and called the police. I didn't think it was that bad. Annie and the team of nurses adamantly tried to convince me that it was bad. The campus cops came, two of them, and one recognized me and said, "So, did you drop a camera on your head?" as soon as he saw me, before he knew that I was helping out my cousin. He told me that I might need staples, and asked if I wanted an ambulance. I didn't need it, and Annie, my sweet angel of mercy, drove me over to Riverside hospital in Red Bank.
I've never been in an emergency room before. It didn't seem too much of an emergency night there. The waiting room was calm and the people who came didn't seem to have anything really wrong with the from the outside. I was the only one with the blatant headwrap bandage. There was a kid and a lady at the reception desk, both eating large baskets of french fries when I signed in. I told them that I bumped my head and would probably need staples. They told me to sit, and we waited... and waited... and waited.
The thing I was most afraid about was if I needed part of my head shaved to accomodate the stitches/staples. I've never had any part of my head shaved, and I've spent the past four months growing my hair out to a cool 19th century do! Now that it looks cool, I might have part of it ruined. ARR! Annie kept on telling me to stop worrying and if it really came to that, she'd make me a little bit of fake hair to cover it and no one would know.
We were waiting a long time and I was getting restless. I really didn't want to be there. I went to the desk and asked if they could give me an idea of when I'd be seen. The kid had gone on a break, and the lady (who had finished her fries) got snippy. "I can't tell you that. It's against the law."
A few minutes later, I was called into an office to be signed into the hospital. I gave them my address, and to our collective surprise, I came up in a hospital registry as being admitted to Brick hospital in the recent past. I've never been in a hospital as a patient aside from being born... in fact, this was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I've never broken a bone, I've never been stung by a bee, and I haven't thrown up in 14 years. In fact, the farby woman pistol incident at Monroe up 'til now was the worst thing, but that involved only minor on-scene medical attention. Now I was in a hospital! We got the Brick hospital thing cleared up (they said that when I gave blood, it may have been sent there to be tested), and I was given a yellow wristband.
We sat for another hour, and a woman came out from behind a door with a pile of clipboards. She called out several names, mine included. With a kiss, I left Annie's side, and the lady rounded us up and took us to the back. She had us file off into our own respective rooms - I was assigned room 6. I reclined on the bed, waiting for the doctor to come, which was a few minutes, and she gave my head a look, saying that it was a pretty good gash, and I'd need staples. She left for a couple of minutes and returned with a handful of sterile wrapped goods, needles, and bottles of anesthetic. A local was applied, which stung, and seven loud "POINGS!", a slight jolt of my head, and a pinch signaled the application of the staples.
Seven were applied, in total. She fired off a few to show me what they look liked. They looked like staples. My blood pressure was checked (124/81), heart rate (89 bpm), and temperature (99 degrees), and I was given my discharge papers.
The papers thanked me for choosing Riverside Medical Center for my health care needs.
I felt perfectly fine until we got home, when I felt really tired. My father was kind enough to drive Annie home, and I fell asleep on her shoulder.
No, I wasn't shot nor was it a saber blow.
Annie and I were at Brookdale, helping my cousin Jamie with a movie of his. There was one scene which took place near the doorway to the video department, which acted as the entrance to an office building. Two workers were coming in, supervised by a guard in BDUs standing his post. Annie was one, who skooted past the guard, but the other, a guy wearing a bright yellow tie, was stopped by the guard and shot for breaking the dress code. I was standing behind the cameras, wearing my red, Virginia mud-stained overalls, watching the whole thing transpire, when the guard in BDUs turned and pretended to spray me from his blue plastic electronic gatling gun. I took a hit, fell backwards, and bopped the wall.
It hurt... but like any head-against-wall bop. Annie came running over to check on me. I felt fine. She kissed my forehead, went to go to another take, and I reclined on the floor with my hands behind my head. After they called "cut", Annie came back and her look of concern turned to one of surprise and extreme concern. "You're bleeding, love," she said. I looked at my hand, and it was fairly covered in blood.
We went into the big handicapped men's bathroom to wash it out, but the sink didn't work, so we ran into the women's bathroom where she discovered that what I thought to be a scape was a 2" cut, which was about 1/4" wide.
I still didn't think it was really that bad. We went to see the school nurse, who wasn't in, then went over to the nursing department office. It was silly scene - Annie in a white dress shirt, black bowtie and long black skirt, and me in mud-plattered jeancloth overalls and jump boots telling the nursing professors about the gash in my head. They got a look, became extremely concerned and called the police. I didn't think it was that bad. Annie and the team of nurses adamantly tried to convince me that it was bad. The campus cops came, two of them, and one recognized me and said, "So, did you drop a camera on your head?" as soon as he saw me, before he knew that I was helping out my cousin. He told me that I might need staples, and asked if I wanted an ambulance. I didn't need it, and Annie, my sweet angel of mercy, drove me over to Riverside hospital in Red Bank.
I've never been in an emergency room before. It didn't seem too much of an emergency night there. The waiting room was calm and the people who came didn't seem to have anything really wrong with the from the outside. I was the only one with the blatant headwrap bandage. There was a kid and a lady at the reception desk, both eating large baskets of french fries when I signed in. I told them that I bumped my head and would probably need staples. They told me to sit, and we waited... and waited... and waited.
The thing I was most afraid about was if I needed part of my head shaved to accomodate the stitches/staples. I've never had any part of my head shaved, and I've spent the past four months growing my hair out to a cool 19th century do! Now that it looks cool, I might have part of it ruined. ARR! Annie kept on telling me to stop worrying and if it really came to that, she'd make me a little bit of fake hair to cover it and no one would know.
We were waiting a long time and I was getting restless. I really didn't want to be there. I went to the desk and asked if they could give me an idea of when I'd be seen. The kid had gone on a break, and the lady (who had finished her fries) got snippy. "I can't tell you that. It's against the law."
A few minutes later, I was called into an office to be signed into the hospital. I gave them my address, and to our collective surprise, I came up in a hospital registry as being admitted to Brick hospital in the recent past. I've never been in a hospital as a patient aside from being born... in fact, this was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I've never broken a bone, I've never been stung by a bee, and I haven't thrown up in 14 years. In fact, the farby woman pistol incident at Monroe up 'til now was the worst thing, but that involved only minor on-scene medical attention. Now I was in a hospital! We got the Brick hospital thing cleared up (they said that when I gave blood, it may have been sent there to be tested), and I was given a yellow wristband.
We sat for another hour, and a woman came out from behind a door with a pile of clipboards. She called out several names, mine included. With a kiss, I left Annie's side, and the lady rounded us up and took us to the back. She had us file off into our own respective rooms - I was assigned room 6. I reclined on the bed, waiting for the doctor to come, which was a few minutes, and she gave my head a look, saying that it was a pretty good gash, and I'd need staples. She left for a couple of minutes and returned with a handful of sterile wrapped goods, needles, and bottles of anesthetic. A local was applied, which stung, and seven loud "POINGS!", a slight jolt of my head, and a pinch signaled the application of the staples.
Seven were applied, in total. She fired off a few to show me what they look liked. They looked like staples. My blood pressure was checked (124/81), heart rate (89 bpm), and temperature (99 degrees), and I was given my discharge papers.
The papers thanked me for choosing Riverside Medical Center for my health care needs.
I felt perfectly fine until we got home, when I felt really tired. My father was kind enough to drive Annie home, and I fell asleep on her shoulder.