I already mentioned here I was induced because I didn't want to be born, but I didn't mention that I almost died the very second I made my grand debut. My (or was it actually my mom's since she made it?) umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around my neck and my mom always says she had never seen a bluer baby in her life - and for a pediatrician of 30+ years to say that it really means something."Ok, so I was blue and almost choked to death. That's swell. Did I cry?"
"Oh yes, very much so."
"Yeah, I bet I was screaming "You can't kill me, bitches!!" in babish."
I may have survived that choking incident and the bitches didn't kill me 27 years ago, but since then the universe sure did try and try again to off me.
At 6 months, my mom decided to take me on a stroll one day. She took the car seat out of the car and mounted it onto the wheels of my (again - or was it hers since she bought it) stroller BUT she forgot to fasten the seat to the stroller frame. After taken a couple of steps with me carelessly sleeping or pooping in my diaper or thinking about the theory of relativity or whatever I was doing in the damn death trap, she stopped and the wheels of the stroller stopped too. The only thing that didn't stop was me as I went flying through the air with the seat which landed on me after I had landed on the concrete pavement. There was blood, a lot of it, and of course there was screaming. But I'm still here and apparently there was no brain damage because I've successfully outgrew the diaper-pooping period.
At 8 moths, my mom, my 8-year-old brother and I were eating lunch which was almost ended up to be my last supper. I have no idea what they were having, but I was munching on a piece of bread, when all of a sudden I stopped chewing and turned blue. I don't know what's with me and blue, maybe I just wanted to become a Smurf, but I was full on choking. My mom says my brother just looked at me in sheer shock and panic, puzzled by my royal complexion. Mom grabbed me by my feet and started shaking me and hitting me on my back like crazy and finally the piece of bread flew out of my mouth and my Smurf transformation (un)successfully ended.
At 1 year, we were spending our summer vacation on a sailboat. One morning, my mom was making coffee and preparing breakfast while my brother and my father did god knows what - not helping her apparently. The coffee was made and she put the pot on the table at which I was sitting. She turned away and I reached for the pot full of boiling hot coffee and... Can you guess what happened next? I poured myself a cup and asked my mom if I can have some cream. Not exactly. I poured the entire pot down my neck, arms and torso. I was burned really badly and I screamed really hard. They dipped me in the sea to cool me off and then took me to the hospital. The doctors told my parents I was going to be scared for life and since they're both doctors too, they already knew that. As it turned out, they were all wrong. There's not one sign of the burn anywhere on my body, but maybe that's the reason my boobs grew as much as they did to protect my heart by providing some cushion for possible future accidents.
At 4 years, I fell on a tape dispenser head first and almost poked my eye out on the jagged razor - I still have a scar above my left eye. I always joke with my mom that I had a very safe childhood but once I said that of course it was my fault because I shouldn't be messing with a tape dispenser in the first place to what she replied: "No, nothing that happens to you as a child is your fault, it's the parents'." I have to ask her at what age that rule doesn't apply anymore...
At 5 years, my father decided to teach me how to ride a bike. Since his parenting approach is very militant, I was expected to pretty much just do it which of course didn't work. I was shaking even before I got on the bike on which I was shaking even more. I turned the pedals a couple of times and if you watched Frasier, you can imagine how it ended. I drove straight into a nearby bench, head first naturally, since obviously that's my specialty. Again there was blood and screaming and smashed nose and even more screaming. But I survived. And learned how to ride a bike. With my mom.
At 8 years, my father put me over the balcony (our apartment was on the ground floor) so I'd go and throw some boxes in the trash. He gave me the first box to hold and then loaded the rest of them one by one on top of the first one until they were stacked so high I couldn't see past them. I started walking alongside the apartment building and after 5 steps I fell through an air shaft one floor down. This time I didn't scream, I didn't even make a sound, I was just fed up with everything - universe, go fuck yourself.
At 10 years, the universe tried to kill me in my sleep, the sneaky bastard. I shared a room with my brother and we slept on a bunk bed, I had the lower one. In the middle of the night, the wooden boards gave in, cracked and he fell through with the boards and the mattress and his fully-grown-18-year-old body landing on my tiny self. To say I screamed is an understatement. To say that 'to say I screamed is an understatement' is an understatement. I squealed like a gutted pig. I was so shocked, I had no idea what had happened, I thought that the aliens had came to get me and that I was as good as dead. I stood corrected - after they'd taken my brother and the bed off of me and I actually was able to stand up that is.
Then it all went quiet for a very long time and I thought that the universe found someone else to pick on, but 8 months ago I had some health issues and nobody knew what it was so the doctors decided to do a bunch of tests. It turned out I had gall stones and a lump on my uterus as big as the uterus itself. I had surgery to remove my gallbladder and the lump and was hospitalized for 3 days (I actually posted this post from the hospital). When the doctor who removed my gallbladder came to check up on me the next day, he brought me my gall stones and said:
"They were 5 of them, I couldn't believe it! I have no idea how did you live with that many of them for so long. Weren't you in pain?!"
"I don't know... I guess. But whenever I complained about the pain, my mom just said that that's because I drink too much." I thought I was being funny, he didn't.
"Anyway, here they are. I was very surprised, usually they don't look as pretty as this, they look like pebbles! You have an inner sense for aesthetics."
I guess it doesn't get much more inner that this... But pretty or not, those suckers didn't kill me. They did get me thinking what will the universe come up with next though. Since kidney stones are pretty plausible, I asked my mother how does one get those so I can prevent them. She said you get them if you don't drink enough. Well, then I guess I'm safe. Cheers to that!
You're welcome to follow FPS via Twitter, Bloglovin and/or Google+ to get the latest updates. Posting days are Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so do drop by again next week!