Monday, October 19, 2009

Therapy Needed

Random Facts Day #2:

When I was 3 or 4 we lived in the country.  My brother Kip was taking care of some cows for a neighbor.  My Mom, Kip, and I  drove to the neighbors to feed the cows.  Mom stayed in the car and I went with Kip.  I was wearing a swimming suit and had bare feet.  Kip climbed to the top of the haystack and started throwing hay down for the cows.  The herd of cows saw the food and they hotfooted it over at a rapid pace.  I was standing at the foot of the haystack and watched with wide eyes as the stampede headed straight for me.  I screamed and ran.  There were two electric wires strung up on fence posts to keep the cows in.  I didn't pay attention to where I was running, I was just running.  All I knew was that I had to get out of there.  The banks of the creek had flooded and water spilled onto the ground.  When I hit the electric wires, I was also standing in the water.  ZAP!  Yep, I was fried like a turkey dropped in a vat of bubbling oil on Thanksgiving.  

When I was about 7 my family went to Lagoon.  We spent the day at Lagoona Beach.  My brother, Kasey (who was 17 at the time), took me with him to go down a water slide.  I was so excited!  To do something with Kasey was always a treat.  But then I saw which slide he was taking me to.  It was the longest slide there.  And not only that, it was a straight shot down.  There were no nice bumps or curves to slow things down a bit.  Just a straight shot.  I started to panic.  I couldn't go down that thing!  What was he thinking!?!  "Oh, you will be fine."  Then he pushed me up the stairs that lead to the killer slide.  All the while I was climbing I kept thinking, "get me out of here!"  Finally we reached the landing and he picked me up and plopped me on the top of the slide.  I told him I didn't want to go, panic rising in my voice.  His impatience grew and he gave me a shove.  Down I flew!  Now, I completely disregarded the instructions I was given by the person working at the slide.  "Cross your arms over your chest, please."  I was like a rocket shooting off.  I'm sure a cloud of smoke was visible behind me.  In an effort to slow myself, I put my arms against the slide.  The friction rubbed my skin off.  In a matter of seconds I had reached the bottom of the slide and shot of the end of it, skimmed across the landing pool and hit hard on the concrete on the other side.  I lay disoriented and in pain.  Oh the pain!  My mother and lifeguards were standing over me with concerned looks.  I sat up.  Then came the screaming.  From me.  At my brother.  "I told you I didn't want to go!  Why did you make me do that!"  Then came more screaming.  From my mother.  At my brother.

That same blessed year, my father went to Ecuador.  He flies planes that drop retardant on fires.  He was on contract there for a few months.  Mom flew to visit him for a week.  (She should never have left, this week is a huge black mark on the page of my existence.)  When my father returned he came bearing gifts.  One of them was a blow gun with darts included.  This is how the people of Ecuador hunt.  Before going on the big hunt, the darts are dipped in a poisonous concoction.  It is not the dart that kills the prey, but the poison.  One afternoon shortly after my father returned, I had a friend, Stephanie, over at my house to play.  Kasey also had one of his buddies at the house.  It was just us 4.  No adult supervision.  Kasey got the dart gun out to show his friend.  He was explaining all about it.  He started pointing the dart gun at Stephanie and me just to tease us.  We got scared and ran behind a padded chair, you know the kind with the fabric skirt around the bottom and that is attached to a base and turns.  Stephanie and I screamed as the taunting continued.  At one point I peeked around the corner of the chair to see what he was doing.  In that instant I saw the dart soaring from the long barrel of the dart gun.  It was as graceful as a bird.  Straight for the chair we were crouched behind.  And then the pain.  Oh, the pain!  The dart had pierced my leg.  Then came the screaming.  "Why did you do that?"  Then enters the mother.  And more screaming.  "What were you thinking?  What if that had been dipped in poison?"  I'm beginning to see a trend here.  

So about that therapy session.  Maybe I don't need it after all.  I know exactly what is wrong with me:  I have brothers!  

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