My damn clicker hasn’t been working on my truck, but yesterday I got it to click locked. Also, the hydraulics in the rear gate has been weaker than usual. So this morning I opened the trunk with the key and immediately bent over to help my kid. The alarm started screaming at in my quiet suburb, and I immediately jumped upwards. The gate, which I hadn’t realize didn’t go all the way up, was about 2 foot over my head. I cracked my skull into the metal edge and pain immediately shot through my head and down my spine. I rubbed my head furiously, and Claire began to cry. I forced myself to push the pain from my head as I tried to show her that I was ok. When I brought my hand into the light it was covered in blood.

I ran back in the house and had to yell out that it was Not Claire! before anything else. Donna cleaned my wound, laughed at me, and kicked my butt off to school. I mostly forgot about the cut, other than the throbbing pain. A few hours later I felt something uncomfortable on my head, reached up instinctively, and ripped open what had become a huge scab. It immediately began bleeding again, and I walked over into the nurse’s office. She cleaned it off, and told me that in her professional opinion I needed to get my butt (errr… I mean my head) to Urgent Care. I’d planned a nice afternoon at home with a movie and my daughter, but instead she and I headed off to the local urgent care. The nurse there wasn’t sure what they would do since it’d been 6 1/2 hours now since I cracked my skull open. A little while later the doctor came in with a surgical stapler and mater-of-factly informed me that she’d be shooting three solid, sterile, metal staples into my head!! Claire was mindlessly playing in my lap as this lady came at me with this gun-tool. She said it would hurt more to numb me up that to just shoot me toward the brain, which she proceeded to do quickly. It was one of the oddest things I’d ever felt. I’m kinda glad she did, because I sure didn’t wany any brains to fall out anywhere. I need all I have.