Part 1

I was at this summer day camp named Maimonides when I was six years old close to my house in Cote St Luc. The memory started with me running down this long hall toward the bathroom with my friend at the time who is a year older than me. My friend and I were running—more like racing—to get to the changing rooms before we went out to the pool. I remember looking at her face and we were smiling at each other as we ran. I remember feeling as though I was going the fastest I’ve ever run ever. Then, all of a sudden, I bashed into something so hard that I fell backwards onto my butt and heard a distinct popping noise as I hit the floor. The first thing I saw when I hit the floor was two droplets of blood. I reached out to touch my head with my fingers and then when I looked at my hand, I saw dark red blood on it.Immediately, not for the fact that it hurt, but for the fact that there was blood coming out of my forehead, I started crying/screaming. It took about five extra seconds for someone to come and pick me up and see what happened to my head. 

Thankfully, since there was a pool right outside, there was also a first aid room right next to it that I was taken to. What ended up happening right after that was a little fuzzy but I do know that all the staff that were there, including the lifeguards and camp director, were looking at this giant gash on my forehead and they wouldn’t let me see it myself. To this day, I don’t know how they gash on my forehead looked like. For some reason, as I’m recounting the story, I’m remembering them handing me a mirror and then not actually letting me look at it. Like they took it away before I could see anything. I’ve been so curious about how the gash looked like ever since.

The lifeguards ended up wrapping my head in thick layers of gauze as I waited for my mom. While I waited, they handed me one of those jumbo yellow freezies to lick. My mom told me after the fact that during this time, she got a call from the camp director which started out with “So everything’s okay. We called the hospital. Your daughter is fine and the bleeding has stopped.” I can’t imagine my mother’s reaction other than utter dismay and total confusion!

While I was sitting on the first aid bed, I heard a keychain jingling. That was my mom. I grew to know that sound since daycare. I put down the freezie to call out “Mommy?” The lifeguards were very confused and told me that my mom wasn’t there so I felt pretty dumb. But then I heard the jingle again and there she was 10 seconds later! Now who’s dumb?!

We went to the hospital and I rode in my mom’s car (as if she would pay for an ambulance to take me). At the time, I was actually a model/small time actor for Joe Fresh, Crickets, and Actra, so my mom insisted to the doctor that I couldn’t get stitches in the middle of my forehead. It would ruin my career, funnily enough. So he pulled out his super glue and glued my forehead instead! That worked very effectively, surprisingly. Then he told me to stick out my two fingers and he super glued my fingers together!

Then we went home.

It turns out that I smashed my head on the corner—the corner! Not even the edge—of this giant white box that was protruding from the wall. It was a Lifepak box with something green inside. Some time after that event, probably when I was eight, I went back and saw that they placed this black spongy thing which would lessen the damage of another injury as such. The only thing I regretted after that day was realizing that I left my yellow freezie on the first aid bed and never got to enjoy it.

Part 2

When I was six years old, I went to a summer day camp with some of my friends. One day, I was racing my friend to the changing rooms before we went to the pool. My friend and I were smiling at each other as we ran, and since I wasn’t looking ahead, I didn’t notice this giant box attached to the wall in front of me. All of a sudden, I hit my forehead hard and fell to the floor with a distinct popping noise and saw two droplets of blood follow the same path then splat in front of me. I touched my head, looked at my fingers, then freaked out at the sight of the dark red blood and started crying. Thankfully, the first aid room was right next to the scene and the lifeguards got me patched up right away. 

While I waited for my mom, my counsellor gave me a yellow freezie to cheer me up. My mom, in the meantime, received a phone call that started with the director of the camp telling her that the bleeding has stopped and that emergency services have been called. My mom freaked out made her way over right away.

She finally arrived and took me to the hospital. At the time, I was a small time model so my mom insisted that I couldn’t get any stitches on my forehead. So the doctor used super glue to stick my gash together! It was quite effective. To this day, I still have the scar.

Part 3

At the very time when I was the mere tender age of the year known as six, a horrific tragedy took place that would forever scar my forehead. My dear friend and I were skedaddling without a care in the world toward the large rooms where we change our wardrobe so that we may prepare adequately for the manmade ocean right outside. As we pranced along, a giant cubic shaped LifePak container hit me in my sinciput. Deep red oxygenated blood cells escaped from the incision that appeared after my collision, and I tumbled down to the bottom of the floor.

The lifeguards rescued me. They circulated gauze around my bleeding skull to stanch the flow of blood. I waited for my female giver of life for what felt like eternity.

She arrived promptly and with dismay to transport me to the medical facilities. 

The medical practitioner dealt with my gash with care and was sensible to the fact that my mother showed fear for my career as a young aspiring girl in the acting and modelling industry. He used his super medical cyanoacrylate to bind the fibres of my sinciput flesh. 

I now have the reminder of the localized flesh wound that was caused by my kiddish glee and healed to mere perfection after so many years.