It Figures
I have to say Alanis Morrissette was really on to something when she wrote her hit single “Ironic.” Whether it’s rain on your wedding, a free ride when you’re already late, or some good advice that you just didn’t take, there is a good chance that you can find irony in your life. My most recent, unfortunate collision with irony occurred Saturday.
Unless all of my fellow English classmates have experienced amnesia or other cognitive deficits in recent weeks, I think it is safe to say that they all remember their unit one speech projects. I can certainly remember mine—it was about concussions. In my speech, I talked about the prevalence of concussions as well as the serious effects they can implicate. I referred to statistics and displayed images to illustrate the significance of concussions. I made sure to highlight why research regarding concussions needed to be developed and what type of safety precautions should be implemented. But even after my speech, and as I much as I hate to say this, I never thought I would be a victim of yet another concussion. Well, I was wrong.
My Saturday, which I was really anticipating being a good one, consisted of six hours in the hospital. While playing in a baseball scrimmage, a pointless scrimmage at that, I was drilled in the head with an 85 m.p.h pitch. I had no time to react as I watched the pitch coming straight towards me.
There was a loud smack, the sound of the ball colliding with my head, and then darkness—pitch black darkness.
I could feel a large amount of warm liquid flowing down my face when I awoke thirty seconds later. I’m not afraid to say that I shed a few tears, but I was immediately able to recognize that the liquid was no was no normal tear duct fluid. I felt dizzy, nauseated, and disoriented, all indicators of a concussion that I noted in my speech a few weeks earlier.
I was taken over to student health services where the nurse practitioner refused to apply stitches to two lacerations above my left eye. She thought that the doctors at the emergency room would be better suited for the procedure. So without further a due, I was escorted over to the emergency room at UNC Hospital. Five hours, eight stitches, and a bunch of pills later, I was released and allowed to return to my dorm room.
I have found that it is very difficult to focus, making typing this blog very annoying. In addition, I have had trouble recalling events from the past few days. My girlfriend called this afternoon and wanted to have a recap of our week. How ironic? I have tried to study, but have had little success. Let’s just say, I am not looking forward to my last two mid-terms. If there is one thing that I can say, however, it’s that if I didn’t know the repercussions of concussions before, I sure as hell know them now. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?
