Them’s The Breaks, Part 1: It All Begins in Your Head (3/3)

My last head wound was the worst of the bunch, but, thankfully, it had nothing to do with stairs. I guess even the thickest people eventually learn…

Our garage door opener broke sometime last year (or so. I don’t keep up very well). I always thought that the garage door opener was just a convenience and something that I could live without. What a fool I was. One of the problems with the house we currently live in is the fact that the guy who owned it before us built the garage. I’ll give him one thing, it is a big garage. However there were MANY things he could of and should have done better. I’m not sure this is the post to get into all that.

So this guy who owned the house before us installed the garage door himself. This must have been a great feat because the thing weighs a ton (this is a key fact in the upcoming event!) However he installed the track for the door, he twisted it. Around the corner, when the door comes up then curves horizontally, the track warps ever so slightly. This is a little twist of great concern. See, the problem is that when you are lifting the garage door up using the handle on the floor, it pushes the door straight up and, at the twist in the track, causes the wheels to “jump track”. Often this is nothing more than an annoyance, one side of the track jumps and the other stays on making the door jam in place setting cock-eyed. This is a huge hassle. Getting the door back on track is very troublesome. Sometimes, however, both wheels jump at the same time. This is a cause for great concern.

One time, something happened to the door that had my wife and me both out working on it. She was holding up one side and I was working on the other side. Unfortunately somewhere in our work both sides jumped track and the entire top of the door swung down on it’s hinge and hit me in the head. This hurts. A lot.

The fateful evening in question though (yes, I am finally now getting to the story) I was opening the garage door by myself as my wife was putting on her shoes or coat for some such thing in preparation of heading to church on a Sunday night. I was in a white dress shirt when I went out to lift the garage door open so we could leave. I stood side to in the middle (where the handle is) with me left to the door. As I lifted the door, I watched the wheel in my view skip track. I had only a split second to groan inside when my view went completely black and it felt like I had been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. I know some people use that phrase, but I’m not sure they know what it feels like quite like I do. (Of course I don’t know how it is to be hit with an actual sledgehammer, something that would probably kill you, but I think I’m the closest living person to know the feeling now).

Lucky for me, I think, I did not lose consciousness. I do think I let out a loud “OW!” as I slipped out from being sandwiched between the two parts of the door. My head didn’t feel good at all. I put my hand up to hold it (that’s what you do to aching heads, you know) and it didn’t feel right up there. I moment later I saw something fall off my head to the floor. I wasn’t sweating. It was blood.

My wife came out to see what was going on right about then and I told her that my head was bleeding. She could see that the garage door was flopped over on its hinge with both sides off the track. She turned around to get me some napkins and told me to sit on the bench inside the door between the garage and the house. She knew I could be squeamish sometimes and was pretty worried about me losing consciousness. I told her I was going to be OK and not to worry. She came back with stuff to put on my head and checked out my head. She saw that I had two long, parallel gashes in my head; one near the forehead and one near the top of my head. She made sure I had something better than napkins to hold on my head, and then she had the horrible job of putting both sides of the garage door back on track, which is ten times harder than putting one side back on track. Somehow she managed to muscle the door back on track and opened it so we could go to the ER. We did inspect the garage door before we left and we saw that my head had been gouged by the piece of metal that is screwed into the garage door to hook the bar of the automatic opener to. (I have pictures of all this…maybe I’ll find out how to come back and post them in…) The metal has two sharp corners that were turned into deadly piercing weapons when leading the swinging charge of a metal garage door section weighing hundreds of pounds. If I had been even a half inch taller, the two edges would have slammed into my skull, most likely crushing it and piercing into my brain. It is so hard to imagine what could have happened. Luckily, I was only the perfect height to have those two edges barely scrape the skin off my skull (and hair. For quite a while there was still hair stuck on those edges.) Of course I could look at it from the point of view that if I was half an inch shorter, the metal wouldn’t have hit me at all and I would have only had the headache. I prefer to see my cup half full. That was I can see God’s grace in it.

Wrapping up, I had to have a total of 13 stitches in my head, never got a single drop of blood on my white shirt, and never had to take anything other than a couple of ibuprofen that night!

How long does a post have to be before I should put it in the Stories category?

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3 Responses to Them’s The Breaks, Part 1: It All Begins in Your Head (3/3)

  1. cousin dave says:

    pffffffffffffft! quit whining its only a flesh wound!

  2. brian says:

    nice. Stitches in your head…just like frankenstien!

  3. Roger says:

    It was only a flesh wound, but it could have been much worse!

    Dr Shearer…I have the brain you asked for…

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