Watch Out for Falling Objects

Last night, Tim and I were goofing around and before I knew it we were speeding down the road going to the Emergency Room. OK, I wasn't knocked and do remember the details - so I'll tell you just how stupid this story begins.

We were just about to head downstairs with our Nalgene bottles in tow (we always bring our water with us wherever we go - I guess we are just the thirsty kind). In a fit of childishness, I picked up the green rubber exercise band that lays over my doorknob, turned back and gave Tim an evil little smile, and flicked the band with all my might back at him. It landed on his shoulder and he went to throw it back at me...only the hand he decided to throw it back at me with also had his Nalgene bottle looped around it...well...who knows if the exercise band ever hit me or not - but one thing is for sure - the Nalgene bottle sure did. And that evil little smile would be my last for quite a bit.

"You're bleeding!" Tim exclaimed as he nervously ushered me to the bathroom shouting expletives along the way. I wasn't too sure what was going on until I looked in the mirror and saw my face covered in blood.

"We have to get you to the ER immediately," Tim said as he grabbed a towel for me to put over my face. I kept splashing my face with water and the water below had turned a steady stream of red. "Let me look at it," Tim demanded as I said something like "Oh, I'm fine, no need to go to the ER." I removed the washcloth and noticed a nice gash that went right through my upper lip. My knees went weak at the prospect of being able to see through my upper lip.

"Time to go," Tim commanded. Moments later, I was being ushered down the steps and out the front door. Tim was grabbing my belongings along the way and asking where this was and that. I slowly started to grasp what was unfolding before me and with each new revelation my nauseau increased. Tim gently folded me into the passenger seat of my Jetta. I found the hand crank and gently laid my body back in the car hoping that would help soothe some of the woozy feelings.

Moments later, Tim was back with a huge bag of ice for my face (courtesy of our roommate Adam) and the cold helped to ease the spins and threat of vomit. Destination - George Washington University Emergency Room.

The entire ride to the ER, Tim said over and over and over, "Honey, I am so sorry." "No worries Timmy," I would reply in hopes of soothing the man next to me. A thousand sorries later and we landed at the ER. Tim helped me out of the car, put his hand on the small of my back as I balanced the bag of ice and the rag on my wound and we walked inside. First stop, triage and paperwork - Tim was answering questions and explaining what happened while I slouched in one chair and then the next trying desperately to convey that I was not a battered woman but rather the victim of a ridiculous incident.

"Are you the lip Lac?" a gentleman came over to me and asked. "Huh?" I replied. "Are you the one that was hit with a Nalgene bottle," asked the doctor again as I replied, "Yes." Wow, our story sure traveled fast. I had been diagnosed (can you say that with a wound?) with a lip laceration. Lovely.

"Cleland," a nurse called and she ushered Tim and me back to the Emergency Room. It wasn't your typical TV Emergency Room with nurses and doctor's rushing around tending to this critical patient and that. It was busy, nonetheless, but busy with a lot of non-life threatening injuries.

Another fit of nausea washed over me, and I slouched further into the hard waiting room chair. A nurse spotted a ghostly version of me and beckoned me to one of the reclining chairs. And that's where I curled up for the next 3 1/2 hours (Tim stood, paced, or leaned on a stool meanwhile) while we waited ever-so patiently for our turn.

Finally, Doctor Amy came over and led me to curtain 6. I changed into a hospital gown and hoisted myself up on the plastic bed while Doctor Amy laid out all the necessary instruments. Tim came back into the room with me and pulled up a chair so he could watch the events unfold and tell me all about it later.

Amy inquired as to how the injury occurred - so Tim lunged into the ridiculous story one more time. Amy asked, "Was it one of the bottles with a number 7 on the bottom?" referring to the recently proven fact that #7 plastics have been added to the long list of cancer causing products. "Yes," I reluctantly answered, "We've been meaning to buy new ones."

"Did you know that if you're hit in the face with one of these Nalgene bottles you can get cancer too," Amy said. The look on my face must've have shown that I didn't get her joke, so she said, "I was just kidding - come on, let's get you patched up."

Amy explained what she was about to do and how the first step - injecting the Novocaine into my mouth - was going to be the most painful part. And boy, was she ever right. The longest, thinnest needle I have ever seen was placed inside of my mouth and stuck up through my gums almost into my nose. One, two, three injections later and an eternity later - it was over. I most definitely needed a few moments to regain my composure before the next step could begin.

Sterile gauze was laid over my body and my head - save for a little opening that exposed my wound and isolated the area for Amy to perform her magic. From then on, I watched the scene unfold through a tiny sliver of reality. Sutures, scalpels, and a million other tools went this way and that tying this line and then that line. I seriously never thought it was going to end.

10 stitches later and it was finally over. Amy lifted all of the gauze off of my body and I sat up just like a new toy being unveiled for the first time (save for this toy was a little broken). Tim looked at me with sympathy and compassion written all over his face. I was exhausted and ready to go home. Amy went over the care instructions and I signed the necessary discharge papers. We waved our goodbyes, and Tim all but carried me and my puffy, bruised upper lip out to the car.

On the ride home, I glanced at my discharge papers, "Final Diagnosis: Lip Laceration; Additional Diagnosis: Struck by Falling Object." Goodness.