Tw: Mention of blood and a wound
Here is the story of how I once split my head open, and my mom didn’t find out until a decade later. When I was three or four, I used to play hide-and-seek with my cousins and older brother. We played all around our small neighborhood. My cousin Cameron, who is now in his early twenties, was always the seeker while I hid with my other cousins. One of our favorite hiding spots was the bed of my uncle’s truck. Cameron was barely tall enough to see into it, so it was the easiest place to hide. We were climbing out of the truck after we had been found, and my older brother was trying to put the tailgate back up. It slipped out of his hands and hit me on the head.
I blacked out and rolled to the curb; blood was all over the driveway. My cousin, who wasn’t much older than my brother, picked me up and tried to carry me up the stairs before slipping. Then Cameron picked me up and took me to my aunt who then handed me to my dad. My dad was panicked, he didn’t know what to do. I blacked out again and found myself in the backseat of the car, passing the giraffe on Highway 49 in Gulfport. We were on the way to the hospital.
I blacked out again and woke up in a loud machine with headphones on. Unfamiliar country music was playing. I started squirming, which made the technician restart the scan. Everything was fine, just an open wound on my head. I got a sucker and was on my way home. I remember retelling this story to my mom when I was about thirteen; she had no idea that anything like this had happened since she was at work that day. My family all kept it a secret from her.
This is so interesting, I’m so surprised that you remember this so vividly! I hope I never have an experience like this – it’s my worst fear.