Accident, Part Gazillion

My last post was about how I got into a “car accident” in my scooter. That wasn’t my fault but once I fell off my scooter and embarrassingly this one was yes… totally my fault.

It was my second week in college and I was on my way to a class when a friend called my name. Our classes were located near each other’s so we both decided to walk together. The thing was, both of our classes were on top of a huge hill and at that time I didn’t know that there was an elevator that I could use to bypass it. I don’t know who the architect of my college is, but all I know is they must’ve been drunk while designing it. To get to the top I had to use ramps that crisscross the entire hill from one opposite side to another. Since I didn’t want to make my friend – I had just met him a couple weeks ago so he wasn’t even a proper one yet – go through that horror first thing in the morning, I told him to just take the stairs. He’d go up one stack of stairs and I’d go up one ramp while he waited for me. I really don’t remember how this happened but I didn’t notice that my scooter’s wheel caught a corner as I made a quick turn. I flung off my scooter and my friend ran down, probably scared that I died or something. I couldn’t even brush off my fall because there on the bumpy pavement I watched two worried girls run after my massive battery pack for my scooter. After they helped me put it back on, I insisted to my friend that I was fine but he stared at my elbow in horror. Blood was dripping off of where it had gashed open. My friend hurried to get some paper towels from a nearby bathroom but he couldn’t do anything more because class was starting soon. Because I was new to college, I was scared to miss class so I went to mine, too. I didn’t think it was a big deal; I had some paper towels pressed on and I could still write because my right arm was completely fine. It didn’t even really hurt that much either. But as I held my elbow my professor who was going through the Power Point slides suddenly stopped talking. He had noticed my blood stained paper towels and looked like he fell in a brief trance. His look made me realize that it did look a bit bad, after all. I decided to go to the student health center after class but surprisingly the receptionist told me that I had a three-hour wait. I actually had another class that I had to go to, so I just left. When I arrived, not only was I late, disrupting lecture, but this class also had only ten students in it. All of them gazed at me as I meekly avoided my professor’s annoyed look. She couldn’t say anything when she saw me, though. I had a pretty good excuse for being late.

When I finally made it back to the health center, I didn’t come out until mid evening. While the majority of the staff packed up to go home after closing hours, I found myself calling my dad to ask him if I ever got my TB shot done. The doctor insisted that it was important. “You could get an infection!” he cried. He then pushed me along to the radiology room for an x-ray “just to make sure that no bones broke.” I couldn’t believe it. All I wanted was a band aid. 

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