by Matthew Linskey
Kickboxing - it's a fun sport, right? Allison and I were pretend kickboxing. We would pretend kick each other and pretend fall down. Or, when we got tired, just sat on the floor and kicked each other. So, I did my super sitting "hi-yah!" kick and leaned back for full effect...and all of a sudden my head kind of hurts - I guess I hit the fireplace? So, I rubbed it. Then, I looked down at my hands, and there was all this sticky red stuff everywhere. It was icky, and the color didn't go with my swimming suit so I tried rubbing it off. But, then it was running down my back and was coating my hair. It was gross! It was all over the place! Allison and Julia were screaming and calling for help. Julia kept saying, "Mom! Matthew's bleeding. Mom! Matthew's bleeding! Ohh my gosh, there's blood! Help! It's everywhere!" and Allison kept asking, "Is he going to die? Is he dying?" I didn't think I looked THAT bad with the red stuff on me! Mom and dad figured out that I was only upset about the red stuff (which I guess is called "blood") and figured out that I had a scalp laceration (fancy term for "cut on the head that bleeds like a firehose especially when you touch it ...or not touch it"). So, mom changed me out of my swimming suit (and she made me mad and said we weren't going swimming!) She didn't even let me wear a shirt! So, she puts me in the car half naked and drives to some place with a doctor. They poked at me then said I needed "stitches". While I was waiting for whatever those are, the nurse came back with some pink stuff to make me feel "relaxed". But, no way was I going to be drinking that stuff! I felt fine! So, I spit it everywhere. Then, the nurses and doctor came in with fishing stuff - I was excited because I like fishing! Then, with no warning, mom put me on my belly and lays on my legs and holds my right arm, and another nurse held my left arm and shoulders down, and another nurse held my head still. They put paper blankets over my head, and gave me shots in my head. Then, there was blood all over again. They tugged a few times on my head, and then they said I was all better. Then, mom gave me M&Ms. I got 3 stitches. I liked the M&Ms a lot more.
So, I guess none of this would have happened if I hadn't been kickboxing. I think it was the fireplace's fault. Or, Allison. Or, Julia. Or, Amanda. Amanda wasn't downstairs, but it could still partly be her fault too. I guess stitches aren't all bad, but now I can't go swimming again for a few days. Maybe I can kickbox with a helmet on...
