My husband had to get his head examined over the weekend.
While our home is pretty much child proof, the kitchen while is separated by a safety gate, isn’t. And while the corners of both the tables in the living and dining room are fitted with rubber paddings, the corners of our fridge door aren’t.
And so, when Silver Bullet stood up to pick things up from the kitchen floor just right at about the same time I stood in front of the fridge (he saw me!) and opened the top door of our fridge as I called out “watch it”…BAM! hebanged up the top side of his head real hard on the corner of the refrigerator’s door. The knock was so hard that he busted his head. I believe he saw stars.
I saw how it happened, I heard the loud thud that came with it and I shuddered when I saw that he had blood on his hands right after he touched his head. I could imagine how painful that could be and what I saw and heard almost knocked the wind out of me. (I still shudder as I wrote this, and probably will if I were to re-read it later)
I didn’t know what to do, and as guilty as I felt (I KNOW it wasn’t my fault and it’s not like I hate him or anything), the last thing I didn’t want to be was go into a panic mode. Instead, I quickly shoved him out of the kitchen, had him sat on the sofa, gave him a cold compress to his bleeding head and gave him a glass of water. Deep inside, the blood in my heart felt like it was swirling; my head felt light-headed.
While Silver Bullet reassured me that he was ok, I got a little wary when he continued to bleed for more than an hour despite getting some cold compress for more than 15 minutes. Even though there was no gore of blood gushing away, I am ever so paranoid with injuries to the head. And so yes, even though the wound might be superficial, I insisted that he needs to get his head checked.
I reckon he thought (as usual) I tend to over react when it comes to such things, but he agreed with me when he saw the picture I took. Poor, poor Silver Bullet; his hair is already quite thin as it is and now there might be a dent!
Usually, on a weekend, we’ll be scratching our heads to try to find things to do in the afternoon to keep ourselves occupied. This time, we managed to find something to do – we went to the hospital.
In the end, all is good. The bleeding stopped eventually, and the doctor confirmed that he did not need any medication for his head. I am still a little paranoid and have been incessantly asking him if he feels fine and constantly nagging him in the past few days to please, please, please immediately alert me if he feels a bit “off in the head”.
But then again, he probably is a little off in the head already – after all, he married me.