We go to the park and play football very consistently. I actually mean very-very consistently. Most days we leave the park a couple hours later, sans injury. It's a pretty sweet deal, Wade.
Occasionally, though, one or more of us limp away, gingerly gripping the injured limb/head. Well, yesterday afternoon, we jumped into the Suburban and hauled everyone to the neighborhood park, a lovely place with a nice open area surrounded by sidewalks, basically I'm saying it is perfect to use as a makeshift football field, pre-equipped with sidelines and goals.
Okay, so Jeremy is planning out his and Eric's next play, while I'm grabbing an errant ball from the nearby parking lot. I throw the ball to Jeremy...
It is a line drive, perfect except for the fact that he was not looking at it! Yes, that's right, folks, it knocked the "breath" out of him, hitting him in the region that sits just below the stomach and above the thighs. A very sensitive area.
Well, to say the least, it hurt. A lot. My big tough dude ended up laying down on the ground and passed out for a few moments. Literally, passed out. He doesn't remember the specifics of those few seconds, other than my version of the events. Tonight, he still feels the pain in his groin region!
Oh, man, I feel so horrible, awful, guilty, and sad about this totally unfunny incident, but I still felt obliged to blog all about it, sorry Honey.
6 comments:
Jeremy was faking it. Check your pocketbook Becka.
Man, I wish I was faking it. I woke up and couldn't figure out why I was lying down in a patch of grass.
Every other time I've been hit there, I've been fine 10 minutes later. It's been almost 48 hours and I'm still sore.
My friend Darl nailed me with a snowball from 20 feet into "my region" when I wasn't looking. I thought my chips had been cashed in. I was seriously headed for the light at the end of the tunnel (and I was happy) when I was yanked back into mortality. I lay on the snowy ground face up, knees to my chest with a bunch of laughing faces looking down on me. Darl says I had that profound "WHY" look on my face. For several months after that 'my region" resembled a big old coconut (except it was black).
Like Lance Armstrong I'm sure I'm susceptible to cancer now.
I saw that same light! For a split second when I waking up but wasn't "with it" yet I thought I was dead. How's that for freaking dramatic?
I feel your pain brother. That's why after such a dramatic event, I'd like to invite YOU into our group:
Bleeding Genitalia
There's about 10 of us.
Welcome.
Bleeding Genitalia? Sounds like a good band name to me!
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