A Battle of Head Vs Lip
When I was a smaller platypus, around 11 years of age, I had an accident at school. A boy came round the corner one way, hands in pockets, head down, as I was going the opposite way round said corner, carrying a chair. BANG. His head makes contact with my lip, forcing my lip to try its hardest to disappear into my throat, ripping itself on my teeth as it does so. Boy starts shouting that I should have been looking where I was going, I start wondering if my lip has actually detached itself from my face or not, and how I stop the spurts of blood that are now decorating the school corridor.

On discovery by a teacher I was given the obligatory wet-paper-towel-treatment that was our school's version of first aid. (When in doubt, soak a paper towel in cold water, and cover the child with as many as necessary until they are a shivering wreck) I was sent home with an edited version of the mandatory 'bumped-head' note and that was that. It was up to me to explain the fact my swollen lip was flapping around in front of my teeth and I had now developed a speech impediment. Thankfully my teeth hadn't gone all the way through the lip, just most of the way, forcing the tissue forward creating an outwardly protruding lump.


Our doctors surgery was nearer to where my dad lived, so my mum decided that he could take me when I visited him that Saturday. My dad had a look and decided it wasn't that bad and I'd be better leaving it to heal up by itself. This didn't go well with my mum, who ended up taking me herself. The doctor took a look and decided surgery was the only option, and referred me.

The surgery itself was fine, it was the first time I'd ever been in hospital but was made to feel okay about the whole thing. The nurses were friendly and reassuring, no complaints about that at all. The op went well, the surgeon did his thing and promised that once the swelling went down it would look almost like it used to. Off I went, mouth stitched and under orders only to drink through a straw for the rest of the day.

My mum bundles me into a taxi and off we go. Still woozy from the anaesthetic I'm half asleep for most of the ride until I feel something on my tongue. Stuck tongue out, removed object, turns out its one of my stitches. Mum does a quick check to see if it's caused any bleeding, no, so we carry on home. Getting ready to get out the taxi, when stitch number two falls out.

Over the next two days all the stitches have come out and I'm mumbling like an idiot from the swelling and my mouth isn't smelling too great. Mum drags me back to hospital, where they give the wound a quick clean and mutter something about how this sort of thing always seems to happen, a total contrast to the attitudes of the staff when I had been in for the op, and instead of restitching it, I am given a pack of steri-strips, and told not to get them wet and sent on my way. This is fine and dandy, except the wound is IN MY MOUTH. I tried my hardest to dry my mouth before putting them on, but it was a fruitless effort. I think the longest I managed to get one to stick was about 3 hours before it gave up.

The wound did finally heal up on its own, but the scar on the inside of my mouth has two ridges on it due to the poor stitching efforts.
I never did figure out how I managed to get hit in the face while carrying a chair...
( Poppy The Platypus was abducted by an army of toast soldiers on, Fri 12 Mar 2010, 16:43, 1 reply)

I've had a tooth go through my lip. Bleeds like buggery. I assume.
Buggery I mean.
( rjmrjm, Fri 12 Mar 2010, 23:25, closed)