Let me tell you the tale of the moment I thought my life was ending.
The sun was shining and the day was warm. It was a day like any other day, almost. I had just signed up to the gym and today was my first day. The class wasn’t too hard, and I’m sorry to say that that wasn’t what nearly killed me, although it left me red faced and breathless. I showered after the class and pulled on my clothes. Lastly I pulled on my socks and smiled as I realized I was wearing one of Marks socks, as well as one of my own.
I continued on to work and the mundane task of washing dishes (filling in for a colleague that was away on holiday).
The day was mostly uneventful and if it wasn’t for the delightful banter with the chef I would have probably died from boredom. I was wishing for something that would disrupt the day and I’d be able to go home and unfortunately it wasn’t long until my wish was granted, perhaps not exactly in the way I had hoped.
I took in my hand a black bag full of rubbish. I wasn’t too bothered being left with this job, the skip (bins) weren’t even far from the back of the shop. I began my descent on the old metal staircase humming a tune as I basked in the glorious sunshine. It was just near the bottom of the stairs that life as I knew it was about to change forever (or perhaps just for a next few weeks), the gods may as well have just ripped up my gym membership because what I was about to endure was going to leave me physically impaired (OK, OK perhaps still a little bit dramatic) for…….well there was no way of knowing at the time. As I took the last few steps the rubbish bag slammed into the handrail and flung back into my leg.
Now it didn’t hurt, I am of course a strong independent woman! I continued to walk and thought nothing much of it at all until…….
ALAS my foot was wet, I looked down and I kid you not I was gushing blood like some sort of popped goon bag (wine cask). I stared in horror as my white sock stained red and with each heartbeat there shot a stream of blood from my leg. I strangely felt calm and all I could think was “I don’t wanna die next to the bins”, which in fairness I don’t think I know anyone who would. I let the black bag drop from my hand and ran up the stairs calling for the chef for help.
She simply thought I had gone mad, and I am sure she thought I was well and truly cracked as I flung myself onto my back on the floor, grabbing blue paper as I went down, kicking my leg up above my heart as I held the paper tightly onto the wound to stem the flow of blood as it sprayed artfully onto the walls.
“Tourniquet, someone get me a Tourniquet”, I cried out.
Yip that’s right I was administering my own first aid (I heard someone say hero…..perhaps not). Needless to say the next few minutes were loud and there was a slight panic in the air, mostly from me hoping I wasn’t about to bleed out here on the floor of my workplace, even if it was an upgrade from the bins.
I lay on my back watching my life flash before my eyes, breathing slowly in and out to calm my heartbeat. I looked up into the face of my work mate who was kindly holding pressure to my cut. This is it, the last face I would see, grateful that she was a beautiful sight. And then I waited. Waited for the grim reaper to arrive and take me to my final destination.
But it wasn’t my time, and I was pulled to my senses by my other work mate who basically carried me in her arms like Kevin Costner did with Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard (or maybe she didn’t……details, shemetails!) to the medical centre down the hall.
At this point it’s obvious I survived, but it was a close one. A couple of hours later I was at home with a cider in my hands after a trip to get some stitches. There were only three of them but the cut was deep and it was going to take time to heal. The only funny part being, it was Marks sock that was ruined, I believe everything happens for a reason and I think the good lord knew (being slightly OCD at times) I wouldn’t of dealt with the loss of a good pair of socks.
After a quick look by my work mate, she discovered the evil chalice that had threatened to end me. It was quite simply a broken teacup, the jagged handle of doom.
So there you have it folks, the story of my almost untimely demise. I made it out this time, I just hope to be forever this lucky.
Until next time……….
Laugh, Dream, Reach xxx