(This is a wonderful companion piece to The Shoulder Tattoo.)
The doctor appointment went pretty good yesterday – nothing much to address, except what I was there for, which remains a fun mystery for everyone.
I did almost pass out, as I usually do when medical procedures are explained. Not that there wasn’t fun to be had. For example, each and every preliminary question – the ones where they ask whether you’re allergic to stuff, drink/smoke, etc – was answered thusly:
“Ummm…I had the bronchitis once – is that what you mean?”
That’s re-purposed material from Twitter, by the way. Anyway – here’s what I was at a cosmetic surgeon for – that’s right, a cosmetic surgeon.
In mid-2002 I got assaulted in a bar bathroom, shattered a cheekbone and one eye socket, and now I’m all jacked up with screws and plates on one side, i.e. I’m a Terminator. This is either awesome or really awesome, depending on how cool you are. Some points of interest:
1) Don’t ask if I set off airplane station alarms – I don’t, and that’s such an easy joke, I’d be insulted if you did it. Everything is titanium.
2) Nobody knows who did it or why exactly I was assaulted. Kingsley – who I went to college with – can probably come up with some viable scenarios, all of which result in me agreeing that I probably deserved to at least get beat up a little, but not face-smashed into a wall while at a urinal. (And yeah – this incident is why I really don’t drink much anymore.)
3) Against what one would assume, my eyesight in the broken side improved after the breakage/surgery. I was 20/20 before, which means the nanobots inside the plates have become sentient, and are working day and night to make me more than just a normal man. (I’m convinced this is why I shrugged it off when I got hit by that car, yet the car was damaged.)
4) The one thing I remember from the entire face-getting-smashed incident was screaming “MY FAAAAAACE…! NOOOOOOOOOooooooo…!” upon impact into the offending wall.
5) As to yesterday, I’ve been feeling some odd pressure around the eye, so went to have it checked out. Also, last week I sneezed and half a hardware store shot out of my nose, so I figured maybe there was a problem. There will be some touch-up work done. Simple procedure; no big deal.
That’s about it, although I suppose there are offshoots to this story, like the time I looked at my dental x-rays with a new dentist and claimed I had no idea that there was a screw in my upper jaw. I doubt I’ve ever had to hold in more laughter than when I looked at her kinda dumbfounded and asked, “How do you suppose something like that happens?”
Anyway, whoever can come up with the best scenario for how and why this happened can have a free copy of PTSA. Leave it in the comments – what exactly did I do? Also, do you you have any exciting broken pieces of yourself stories? (Physical only – let’s leave emotional damages for another day.)