If you ask my mother what I was like as a child, she’d say that I was a fairly good kid, apart from occasionally getting into fights with my older sister/s, having a few temper tantrums and threatening to run away; but come on, who didn’t do those things as a child? So, I was a normal kid, I played with other children and was good in school. But, what my mother will tell you is that I was prone to accidents. Now, they were (thankfully) minor accidents, nothing life threatening or extremely dangerous. But, I had so many accidents as a child.
Right from the start, when I was only a couple of days old, I remember (vaguely) that I had this green, almost broccoli like thing attached to my stomach. Gross I know, but it was completely normal, it was the remainder of the umbilical cord that would eventually fall off when it was ready. So, not an accident but gross regardless. When I was about four or five, I remember being so excited after heading to town with my father, he had bought me these ‘Action Man’ (Remember him!?) fridge stickers, that were transparent looking and I couldn’t wait to plaster our fridge with them. But, before I could…for some peculiar reason that I cannot remember, one of the stickers didn’t make it to the fridge. Instead, it was rolled up and shoved up my left nostril. WHY?! Luckily, my mother was and always remains to be quick on her feet. She sat me down and grabbed some tweezers, good old tweezers, she tilted my head back and yanked out the vehicle shaped ‘Action Man’ sticker.
So, from then on it could only get worse. Around the same time that the sticker incident had occurred, I visited my Nan and was playing catch with my family at her house. It was a lovely day and we were having one of our usual barbecues. As I said, we were playing catch when my uncle threw it too hard and it smacked straight into the bridge of my nose, I can’t remember if it broke it or not, I just remember being sat in my Nan’s living room and blood gushing everywhere. Now, I have a bump in my nose to always remind me that balls to the face, may not always be a good thing.
Around the same time of this, I would often visit the park located at the bottom of the road we used to live on. We had friends that lived right next door to the park, so their fence was the wall for the right hand side of the small, looking back at it now, creepy park. One day, a friend and I were playing in said park, when we noticed that her pet rabbit was escaping out of the fence on the right hand side. She urged me to run outside of the park, to her front door to get help. Before I could even leave the park, I opened the green metal gate, the ones that every park had, it made that same old horrible noise as it opened and for some bizarre reason, I stood still in the gateway of the now returning gate, it smacked the right side of my face and knocked me to the floor. I remember getting up and feeling the worst headache ever imaginable, I placed my hand to where I could feel pain and didn’t think much of it.
As I returned to my friend’s house, still eager to get help for the now already escaped bunny, my sister walked up to greet me with one of her friends. I removed my hand and found what could only be described as the reddest blood you could ever see, my hand was covered and my sister just screamed. She ran to the door and banged for help, my mother (of course) came immediately to my rescue. Luckily, our local hospital was at the other end of the road (clearly a sign). I now have a scar above my eye, near my eyebrow and it’s a constant reminder of how clumsy I was as a child.
As I grew older, I learned to be safer and was constantly assessing my surroundings, which could explain why I’m such an anxious person nowadays. Clearly one day, I wasn’t assessing close enough. I remember playing football (Yes, I actually played football) with our neighbours and my sister, the ball was kicked into someones back yard. We all went to retrieve it, but of course I had to be the center of attention. So, I dived into this persons yard, literally, knee first onto a sharp, carpet nail hidden in the wavy grass. As gruesome as it sounds, I remember not feeling anything, it was as if I had just scratched it or something. It wasn’t until I looked down and my sister noticed that a piece of wood was protruding from my right knee cap. I tried to brush it off but there was something definitely keeping it in place. Naturally, my Nan being a nurse, was called to our house and she rushed me to hospital. They cut off my trousers and froze my leg with a can of what I thought was Mr Freeze’s Ice and thought It was pretty cool. So, now I have a scar on my right knee and that is also a reminder to not jump into things too quickly.
So, we all have scars on our bodies and each of them can be a lesson for us later in life. Of course, mine are small and are from very stupid situations, but each of them tell a story. Embrace these scars and let them be a part of you, learn from them. You will always have a story to tell, but it’s even better if you have the scars to go with them.