suka
i have a scar on the top-right side of my head. a few days after i shave my head, when the hair starts growing a little past stubble stage you can see it clearly. a few days after that, it gets covered by thick black hair... but between those days i find myself fingering that scar, retelling the story of how i think i got it in my mind.
it was a sunday morning, a few days after my family had gone out for an annual cherry picking thing. our family used to do things like that quite a bit - go to some far off orchard and pick cherries and apples and have a good time in the process. my family used to do a lot of things like that together, but it's a practice that has fallen by the wayside and has since been replaced with the occasional barbecue.
well, that sunday morning, as i sat at the dinning room table, my seven (or six? i can't remember exactly) year old body inhaling those wonderfully juicy cherries, my parents were scheming.
"hey mark, you want to go to your grandma's place?" my dad asked. at the time, i absolutely loved going over to my grandparent's place, even though there was nothing there really that exciting. i probably loved that they showered me with love and spoiled me with an endless supply of cookies, candies and other assorted goodies that young boys such myself should not have been eating large amounts of.
"oh yes!" i replied in jubilation.
"well, if you want to go, you're going to have to take the bus. you know how to get there?"
"yep! i just take the 7C bus, get off at finch, and walk over to grandma's building. right?"
"that's correct! well, start getting ready.".
and as i rushed to get out of my pajamas, their plan rolled into motion. see, growing up seventh-day adventist, they had plans for me go to the somewhat local Crawford Adventist Academy where young moldable minds would not only get their required dose of phonics, art and arithmetic, but would also be feed a daily helping of religion. i also would have gotten to wear one of them catholic school looking uniforms.
i would have. things didn't quite turn out as well as they had planned.
the real reason for me to go visit grandma was to see if i could take the bus to their area without any problems, because as you may be beginning to suspect, my grandma lived very close to Crawford. while i innocently thought that i was getting the opportunity of a lifetime by getting to visit grandma on my own (c'mon, getting to travel by oneself at that age was so thrilling!) i was actually going to be accompanied by my father who was going to follow close behind me in the car.
i made it to finch no problems. having travelled the bus many times with my mother here and there and everywhere, i was pretty familiar with that bus route. thinking i was pretty smart, i got off at the bus stop right before finch, because that was right across from my grandmother's building. i stepped off, and the bus rolled away while i oriented myself. down to the right was the main bathurst and finch intersection. to my left was a newly erected crosswalk. now, when i say to my right and left i mean WAY off to my right and WAY off to my left. my seven year old logic screamed "why bother going those long ways, when i can just cross the street now, and get to grandma's building twice as fast?". so i proceeded to jaywalk.
i got to the middle of the four lane street without a problem. i found myself in the middle of street, standing in the turning lane, biding my time, waiting for a safe time for me to cross. now, at this point, several cars had begun line up in the far lane, about 5 or 6, i think. the person in the first car quickly motioned for me to cross the street. i was a little shaken with this, and decided to cross without hesitation, because obviously grownups knew best.
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car car car car car car
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
car
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me turning lane
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what the person in the first car and myself didn't realize was that in the lane closest to me was a station wagon racing ever closer in my general direction. the young man inside was arguing with his mother, and was not paying attention to the road, to the lined up cars, and much less to me.
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car car car car car car
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
me car
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turning lane
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i remember turning and looking at the station wagon barreling towards me and that's pretty much it. witnesses say i flew several feet into the air and landed on my head as my body settled about 10 - 15 feet away from the point of impact.
and this all happened while my dad was watching in his car a few feet away. from what my mother tells me, he had nightmares for years about this after.
when i woke up i was in a police car. no exciting ambulance ride for mark. not that i would have been able to appreciate it; my head hurt, no doubt from the concussion (which would explain why i don't remember actually getting hit) and my body hurt all over. all i wanted to do was see mom and dad and go home and go to sleep with my toys and a warm blanket. i withdrew back into unconsciousness.
when i came to again, my mother was there and we were in a hospital. i'm not sure if they brought me in an ambulance - since the hospital was right around the corner i'm thinking they just brought me there in the police car. either way it didn't matter because mom was there. i was on a stretcher, under the bright lights of the emergency room. my mom and dad were freaking. i reached over to my mom, trying to communicate, but my body hurt too much to talk.
"what's wrong honey?" she asked lovingly and obviously concerned.
"i need to suka" i managed to muster (suka is vomit in tagalog).
she managed to grab a bowl for me to expel into. it was red, and meaty and pretty gross looking. my mother started to freak out again and cry.
"i think it's internal organs" she whispered to a fellow nurse in between tears.
after a thorough analysis they discovered that what i puked had only been the cherries that i was consuming earlier. i ended up leaving the hospital a day later, no internal bleeding, no broken bones, no (apparent, ha!) brain damage - just a body of hurt and a few scars and abrasions.
my mother and i laugh about it now but i'm sure at the time it was quite a harrowing experience for my parents and for the young fellow who hit me, along with his own mother. i rarely discuss the experience with my father because whenever i bring it up i can tell that he gets really uncomfortable. i'm sure his nightmares have since stopped, but i can only imagine the horror he felt as he watched his son fly through the air like a rag doll.
so, that's the story i tell of how i got the scar on the top of my head. suffice to say, i ended up not going to Crawford Academy ever, and instead grew up receiving the highest secular education that the mighty canadian educational system could offer.
thank god ;)
it was a sunday morning, a few days after my family had gone out for an annual cherry picking thing. our family used to do things like that quite a bit - go to some far off orchard and pick cherries and apples and have a good time in the process. my family used to do a lot of things like that together, but it's a practice that has fallen by the wayside and has since been replaced with the occasional barbecue.
well, that sunday morning, as i sat at the dinning room table, my seven (or six? i can't remember exactly) year old body inhaling those wonderfully juicy cherries, my parents were scheming.
"hey mark, you want to go to your grandma's place?" my dad asked. at the time, i absolutely loved going over to my grandparent's place, even though there was nothing there really that exciting. i probably loved that they showered me with love and spoiled me with an endless supply of cookies, candies and other assorted goodies that young boys such myself should not have been eating large amounts of.
"oh yes!" i replied in jubilation.
"well, if you want to go, you're going to have to take the bus. you know how to get there?"
"yep! i just take the 7C bus, get off at finch, and walk over to grandma's building. right?"
"that's correct! well, start getting ready.".
and as i rushed to get out of my pajamas, their plan rolled into motion. see, growing up seventh-day adventist, they had plans for me go to the somewhat local Crawford Adventist Academy where young moldable minds would not only get their required dose of phonics, art and arithmetic, but would also be feed a daily helping of religion. i also would have gotten to wear one of them catholic school looking uniforms.
i would have. things didn't quite turn out as well as they had planned.
the real reason for me to go visit grandma was to see if i could take the bus to their area without any problems, because as you may be beginning to suspect, my grandma lived very close to Crawford. while i innocently thought that i was getting the opportunity of a lifetime by getting to visit grandma on my own (c'mon, getting to travel by oneself at that age was so thrilling!) i was actually going to be accompanied by my father who was going to follow close behind me in the car.
i made it to finch no problems. having travelled the bus many times with my mother here and there and everywhere, i was pretty familiar with that bus route. thinking i was pretty smart, i got off at the bus stop right before finch, because that was right across from my grandmother's building. i stepped off, and the bus rolled away while i oriented myself. down to the right was the main bathurst and finch intersection. to my left was a newly erected crosswalk. now, when i say to my right and left i mean WAY off to my right and WAY off to my left. my seven year old logic screamed "why bother going those long ways, when i can just cross the street now, and get to grandma's building twice as fast?". so i proceeded to jaywalk.
i got to the middle of the four lane street without a problem. i found myself in the middle of street, standing in the turning lane, biding my time, waiting for a safe time for me to cross. now, at this point, several cars had begun line up in the far lane, about 5 or 6, i think. the person in the first car quickly motioned for me to cross the street. i was a little shaken with this, and decided to cross without hesitation, because obviously grownups knew best.
----------------------------------------------------------
car car car car car car
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
car
----------------------------------------------------------
me turning lane
----------------------------------------------------------
what the person in the first car and myself didn't realize was that in the lane closest to me was a station wagon racing ever closer in my general direction. the young man inside was arguing with his mother, and was not paying attention to the road, to the lined up cars, and much less to me.
----------------------------------------------------------
car car car car car car
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
me car
----------------------------------------------------------
turning lane
----------------------------------------------------------
i remember turning and looking at the station wagon barreling towards me and that's pretty much it. witnesses say i flew several feet into the air and landed on my head as my body settled about 10 - 15 feet away from the point of impact.
and this all happened while my dad was watching in his car a few feet away. from what my mother tells me, he had nightmares for years about this after.
when i woke up i was in a police car. no exciting ambulance ride for mark. not that i would have been able to appreciate it; my head hurt, no doubt from the concussion (which would explain why i don't remember actually getting hit) and my body hurt all over. all i wanted to do was see mom and dad and go home and go to sleep with my toys and a warm blanket. i withdrew back into unconsciousness.
when i came to again, my mother was there and we were in a hospital. i'm not sure if they brought me in an ambulance - since the hospital was right around the corner i'm thinking they just brought me there in the police car. either way it didn't matter because mom was there. i was on a stretcher, under the bright lights of the emergency room. my mom and dad were freaking. i reached over to my mom, trying to communicate, but my body hurt too much to talk.
"what's wrong honey?" she asked lovingly and obviously concerned.
"i need to suka" i managed to muster (suka is vomit in tagalog).
she managed to grab a bowl for me to expel into. it was red, and meaty and pretty gross looking. my mother started to freak out again and cry.
"i think it's internal organs" she whispered to a fellow nurse in between tears.
after a thorough analysis they discovered that what i puked had only been the cherries that i was consuming earlier. i ended up leaving the hospital a day later, no internal bleeding, no broken bones, no (apparent, ha!) brain damage - just a body of hurt and a few scars and abrasions.
my mother and i laugh about it now but i'm sure at the time it was quite a harrowing experience for my parents and for the young fellow who hit me, along with his own mother. i rarely discuss the experience with my father because whenever i bring it up i can tell that he gets really uncomfortable. i'm sure his nightmares have since stopped, but i can only imagine the horror he felt as he watched his son fly through the air like a rag doll.
so, that's the story i tell of how i got the scar on the top of my head. suffice to say, i ended up not going to Crawford Academy ever, and instead grew up receiving the highest secular education that the mighty canadian educational system could offer.
thank god ;)