The Day I Cracked My Head Open

Matthew Rainnie writes about his encounter with a teeter-totter (apparently they are called “seesaws” here in the east).

My childhood accident of renown is the day I “cracked my head open.” I was playing on the couch in our basement on Augustine Drive in Burlington, Ontario. I fell off the couch onto the concrete floor, and something bad happened: there was blood, and screaming, etc.. All I remember about the experience is being rushed to the hospital by my mother, and very, very bright lights and concerned-looking doctors and nurses everywhere. I needed stitches, I think, but suffered no permanent damage.

I must have been four or five years old at the time.

The other hospital experience I remember from childhood is developing some sort of stomach malady while staying with my grandmother, and going to see her family doctor at the emergency room. At one point he asked me “have you moved your bowels lately.” I had no idea what he was talking about. My grandmother whispered in my ear “he means ‘have you taken a shit today?’”. Bless her heart.