Bumps and Bruises

Liv and I dabbled in the U.K. health care system this weekend. To avoid worrying the grandparents, let it be known that everyone is safe, relatively healthy, and happy. Here is the story:

Liv's Forehead

On Sunday night, Liv came bopping down the stairs and took a sharp right turn into our family room. Unfortunately, she took the right too sharply and banged into the too sharp door frame. I heard the slam, yell, and came running. She had a straight, vertical, 1 inch gash in her forehead. I grabbed the bag of ice that was on my ankle (story to follow) and held it to her forehead as Rachelle called the neighbors for the postcode to the local emergency room. Within minutes Emily was guiding us to the hospital. Our brave trooper was fretting about going to the hospital in her PJ's and about how bored she would be if she had to miss school on Monday, but, other than that, she was in good spirits. Noah distracted her with various invented stories she could share at school about how she cut herself.

Although the ER was packed with people (I think there was a whole football team there), the open-wound-head-injury-child combination allowed us to skip right in to the physician. The physician verified that there were no issues regarding a head injury (she was alert, did not black out, etc.) and we debated about how to best patch up Liv with the least chance of scarring. It was determined that glue was the best solution, so Liv was super-glued back together and given the green light to go to school and skip bathing for a few days - Liv was quite pleased about both of these recommendations.

Family and friends, once she was glued back together, there is only a small red scratch-like line starting at her eyebrow and going up about an inch. You'll have to imagine cute Liv with a small forehead cut, because, despite my pleading, she has refused to let me take a clear picture for the blog. However, I did sneak this picture of her snuggling with her mum.

Lindsey's Ankle

I really shouldn't post these two segments together because Liv's is a story of bravery whereas mine is of stupidity. They did happen over the same weekend, so here it goes.

A friend of mine needed an extra player for a 7-aside soccer match on Wednesday evening, so I joined in and had a good game. The next day I received an email from someone who said that they heard my name and wondered if I could join their Social Sciences team against Maths (that is not a typo. It is called Maths) on Friday at the University. Despite having gone on serious runs Monday and Tuesday, played soccer Wednesday night, and then had a hard soccer training Thursday evening, I agreed (stupid decision 1).

At training on Thursday, a friend told me to be careful playing intramural soccer because there are some low-skill hacks. I decided to play anyway (stupid decision 2). So, Friday was a hack fest. You would be surprised how rought Maths students and professors can be! By the end of the game, I was bruised up. I woke Saturday morning with a swollen and sore ankle.

Sunday was a big Belvedere cup match against the number 1 team in Division 1. Rachelle suggested I skip the game because of my sore ankle. I decided to to take some ibuprofen and play (stupid decisions 3 and 4).

So, even I have no sympathy for me as I sit here with a bag of ice on my cankle (the condition where your ankle and calf are indistinguishable; rudely applied to Hillary Clinton by her detractors) knowing that I will have to avoid sports for a week or two.

Although Liv might be a little dirtier than usual and I might be sporting a cankle or even a thankle, we continue to enjoy ourselves here in Bath.