That monkey was getting heavy.
Getting our first win at home took two games too long, but – like they say – the third time’s a charm. Our win over Army last night gave us this season’s first victory in Alumni Arena.
Late in the first half I caught an elbow (or a shoulder, or a clenched fist) that split my lip open pretty good. According to the rules, if you’re bleeding play stops and you have to come out of the game until you’re all cleaned up.
At this point the game was finally getting some rhythm and I was enjoying myself on the court. Naturally I didn’t want to come out of the game. Here I am, running down the court after my little collision, frantically licking my bottom lip to keep the blood from showing and/or oozing down my face. Blood tastes awful.
I felt like Edward from the Twilight saga (no, I’ve never seen the movies or read the books – I’m not a big vampire guy, but I know about Edward; he’s the main character or something).
Anyway, I made it one time up and down the court before play stopped for a foul. The referee looked at me like I was the childhood monster from his bedroom closet before I admitted to him, “Yeah, I’m bleeding, sir.”
They took me out of the game and I made my way over to our trainer, Jim. After one quick look at my lip, he goes, “Yup,” and calls the doctor down to follow us to the training room.
“Yup,” is pretty much the universal code for, “You’re going to need stitches.”
So Jim and the doctor whisked me away and sewed me right up – I only missed a few minutes of the game and was back out on the floor.
I’m sitting here now trying to count the number of times I’ve gotten stitches (almost exclusively from basketball – the only exception being when I Superman-dove off a couch and the corner of an end-table reached out and punched me in the chin when I was two years old).
Let’s see…seven and a half, final answer. (The half stems from a practice in Las Vegas where Jim was sure I needed stitches. We waited over five hours in an emergency medical center before being informed that the Steri-strips – pretty much little pieces of tape that hold your skin together – were sufficient enough.)
My chin (as mentioned above), the top of my head, twice above each eye, my elbow (ran into the cameraman under the basket) and now my bottom lip. Each instance has its own story and I remember every one vividly.
Long story short, I could pretty much give myself stitches if I had to. It goes a little like this:
Doctor: How’d it happen?
Me: I don’t know, must’ve been an elbow or something.
Doctor: Is your Tetanus shot up to date?
Me: Yes. I get stitches like twice a year.
Doctor: (as he covers my face with white paper – I guess to control bleeding?) Are you claustrophobic? Are you okay with this tissue over your face? Are you allergic to anything?
Me: No. Yes, I’m good. No.
Doctor: Okay, this is the medicine to numb the area. You’ll feel a needle pinch (I hate needles) and then a burn. (he repeats) A pinch and a burn. (again) A pinch and a burn.
Doctor: (as he pokes a needle and thread through my skin) Does this hurt at all?
Me: (depending on whether the medicine numbed the correct area) No, it’s fine. (or) Ahh! Yeah, it does.
Doctor: (usually asks me some random questions about me or the game or the season)
Me: (I politely answer the questions, however vague they may be)
Doctor: Alright, you’re all set.
Me: Thanks a lot
That’s when I take a look at my new battle scar – and in yesterday’s case, my swollen, stitched (only three stitches this time) and un-kissable lip.
But beauty is in the eye of the beholder…
…we won the game – I can deal with drinking sideways out of a straw for a few days.
