A few years back, I was playing goal in a drop-in (field) hockey game - aka an excuse to spend four hours in the bar after exercising for 90 minutes - when one of the guys rocketed a shot directly off my helmet, hard enough to bend the metal facemask. I think the force of it actually knocked me to my knees - it certainly stunned me for a minute.
Not long afterwards, my friend K said that I shouldn't be allowed to play in the men's first division, because if I got hurt I'd make a scene. I objected and he reminded me that I'd shrieked like a girl when I'd been hit that time at drop-in. As I didn't remember making a sound at all, it became a matter of some debate as to whether I did indeed shriek like a girl, or simply made a reasonable exclamation of surprise.
Huh. I've been trying to post memories triggered by yours each day, but I can't think of anything that has anything to do with fender-benders, being told I did something that I can't remember, or screaming. That's right; (at the moment, at least,) I can't recall ever screaming involuntarily. Weird...
So, anyway, this one doesn't have to do with anything else mentioned so far:
Between the ages of four and fifteen, I went to Florida on vacation with my parents and various other family members seven times. Even if the other people going used a different mode of transportation (my aunt, her boyfriend and my cousins took the train once) my parents and I always drove and we always did it without stopping. As we entered each state, Daddy would make me look at a map and guess what time we would be through that state. After I guessed, he would make his estimate. When I was very little, I thought it was absolute magic that he always got it exactly right. To the minute. I was nine when I figured out he used highway signs to know about
( ... )
When my parents and I were on a fly-drive tour of California, Nevada and Arizona, at one point we were in a random town (I think it had a Hersey's factory or museum or something) and as we got out of the car in a car park, on the street next to us there was an accident. I heard the screech of breaks and turned and I actually saw the car flip in the air. It's the only time I've ever seen anything like that in real life. The emergency services turned up about 2 minutes later, which was quite impressive.
I've only really screamed a few times in my life and it has been in pain. The first time was when my knee first gave. I'm hypermobile and I've always known that, but before this happened, no-one ever told me that people like me easily dislocate stuff. I stood in my room, looking through my wardrobe for an outfit to a concert I was playing later and sat down to get something at the bottom of it. Only, I didn't sit. Somewhere along the way there was a horrible, sickening crunch and my leg seemed to give under me. That was a dislocated knee-cap. I knew after that I'd screamed, but I wasn't aware of doing it. I was 16.
(The knee has done the same thing countless of times since, but it hasn't hurt as much - the tissue was already torn and thus couldn't tear again. Finally, three years ago, I had surgery on it, reconstructing that tissue. By then, the kneecap was sitting slightly off-centre and now it's back in place. Still hurts a bit to walk stairs, but it's much better.)
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Not long afterwards, my friend K said that I shouldn't be allowed to play in the men's first division, because if I got hurt I'd make a scene. I objected and he reminded me that I'd shrieked like a girl when I'd been hit that time at drop-in. As I didn't remember making a sound at all, it became a matter of some debate as to whether I did indeed shriek like a girl, or simply made a reasonable exclamation of surprise.
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So, anyway, this one doesn't have to do with anything else mentioned so far:
Between the ages of four and fifteen, I went to Florida on vacation with my parents and various other family members seven times. Even if the other people going used a different mode of transportation (my aunt, her boyfriend and my cousins took the train once) my parents and I always drove and we always did it without stopping. As we entered each state, Daddy would make me look at a map and guess what time we would be through that state. After I guessed, he would make his estimate. When I was very little, I thought it was absolute magic that he always got it exactly right. To the minute. I was nine when I figured out he used highway signs to know about ( ... )
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I stood in my room, looking through my wardrobe for an outfit to a concert I was playing later and sat down to get something at the bottom of it. Only, I didn't sit. Somewhere along the way there was a horrible, sickening crunch and my leg seemed to give under me. That was a dislocated knee-cap. I knew after that I'd screamed, but I wasn't aware of doing it. I was 16.
(The knee has done the same thing countless of times since, but it hasn't hurt as much - the tissue was already torn and thus couldn't tear again. Finally, three years ago, I had surgery on it, reconstructing that tissue. By then, the kneecap was sitting slightly off-centre and now it's back in place. Still hurts a bit to walk stairs, but it's much better.)
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