Elenfair gets attacked by a chair...

Well, folks, I’m back.

Some of you may recall my close encounter of the third kind with a door for the physically handicapped. Coldfire laughed at me when I told this story in a “the most stupid thing you’ve ever managed to do” thread in MPSIMS, many months ago. Basically, I had managed to fracture my skull on a firedoor, by walking headfirst into its sharp edge. It was held open by a mechanism (you know, the pushbutton kind), which let go just as I was walking towards it. The door clicked, the mechanism let go, and it swung shut… but not before I managed to walk into it, fracture my skull, and pass out on the floor of the university’s library building. Big-ass two inch thick metal doors, ya know, to keep fire out and to knock out idiots like me.

Well, I think I’ve managed to top this incident.

Yesterday, I was gleefully picking up dog toys off my patio. Sophie, the golden retriever, brings out all her stuffed animals outdoors to suckle (she’s always done this) and every time it bloody rains, I have to wash all of them free of dirt, water, and bugs. Anyway, so I was picking up Sophie’s toys. I bent down with efficient zeal, near the cast-iron table. Said table has chairs. Also cast-iron. In my previously mentioned zeal and enthusiasm, I didn’t see the chair. I whacked my forehead on the back of the chair - did I say it was cast-iron, bloody hard, and with a protruding rope-style pattern?

As I engaged in this intimate chair-forehead encounter, there was a loud thump. The chair vibrated, as did my jaw. Sophie and the other dogs barked and howled. I managed to swear a few times before passing out for no more than 20 seconds. Alternating between concern for her daughter and bubbling laughter at her accident-prone spawn-of-the-devil-offspring, my mother ran outside to make sure I was still in one piece.

I now have yet another egg growing on my forehead. It is about an inch to the left of the former skull fracture site, right between the eyes. Really, I look quite spiffy.

My doctor, who knows me as “the door!” laughed hysterically at me again, and thanked me for another good story to share at the next staff party. Apparently I’m really well liked there. I was asked to make a personal appearance. I may well do that. He had x-rays of my skull taken, saw yet another hairline fracture (that’s number 13, for the record, I’m really a pro at this), gave me demerol, put in two tiny tiny stitches and sent me on my way.

So… I am not allowed to sleep for the next 12 hours - he told me 24 hours of short sleep bouts with someone waking me up every 30 minutes or so. I’m bloody tired, and cranky, and have a monster headache.

Oh, did I mention I have to go to a meeting at an upper-crust private school on Thursday? They are helping me raise funds for a community child who is undergoing surgery this week in Chicago. Boy will I look smart. Maybe I can tell them I hit my head while doing something really dangerous, like skydiving… anything but “well, Ma’am, I was picking up dog toys when…”


I wish I had Scylla’s talent for story-telling, but hey, blame it on the egg.




Cast iron bad. Hurt.
You know, you’re remarkably coherent for someone who just got bongered by a cast-iron chair!

Get well soon, and don’t fall asleep. Read some old threads.

:::reading new and old threads::::

Gah. My head is gonna rupture, I tell ya. :wink:

Thanks, dan, for the kind words. As for being coherent, well, after so many blows to the head, you sort of adapt. My dead braincells are all there for extra padding. <weg>



Wow – 13 skull fractures! I am impressed. Maybe it’s time to replace your cast iron furniture with soft, cushy, well-padded furniture.

Good luck with your meeting tomorrow.

Jeff… yeah, 13… 10 of which were freaky accidents.

My head hurts today, but what can I do.

Of course, I could just sit back and tell you another story… sure, why not, let’s…

Once upon a time, there was a little Elenfair. She was 6 years old. She had just skidded all the way down the stairs and split the back of her head on the staircase railing before splatting onto the hardwood floor. Her mom and dad, ever used to this already, took her to the ER to get checked out.

“Hi there, Mr and Mrs Parents,” said the ER nurse, who knew Elenfair and her parents on a first name basis, “what did she do this time?”

Mr and Mrs Parents sighed and explained. Elenfair was taken to an observation room, and a young doctor came in to check up on her. He was new there, and Elenfair and her mom and dad had never seen him before. He took down the story and was terribly suspicious. He put in some stitches and said he’d be right back.

Later, Elenfair found out he went to talk to the nurses and other doctors, thinking he had detected a case of child abuse. The nurses told him, “No, it’s the kid, trust us.” Even another dog said, “I tell you, it’s the child…”

But he wouldn’t budge. He wrote down his suspicions in the file, and discharged Elenfair. He was still arguing with the nurses and the other doctor at the nurses’ station when Elenfair and her parents were on their way out. Elenfair waved at him, and he glared at her parents. He watched as Elenfair waved, and walked briskly towards the door, absolutely oblivious to the “Caution: slippery Floor” placard ahead of her. She promptly slipped, and fell forward, just as a young boy with an IV stand walked out in front of her. Her forehead and nose collided with the IV stand. There was a shout from the desk, from the older doctor, “See, told you it was the kid.”

Elenfair was kept there for the night, with a broken nose, and loose teeth that had to be braced back into place.

No one ever asked questions about her parents’ integrity since.


Sorry, I know it’s a typo slip-of-the-finger, but I can picture a dog in the hospital talking to the doctor.

screech-owl (who is utterly sympathetic, having also been born under the astrological sign of “Klutz”)

Well pooh.

What a typo.

The egg is responsible! Honest!



Oh Elenfair…you remind me of my sister.
She was also the most klutzy child on the face of the planet. Constantly in the E.R. for something, be it falling on the oyster bed at the beach, (117 stitches) almost breaking her arm riding a bike, things like that.
By the way, what do you think my brainiac parents gave her for her 10th birthday? A Pogoball… (A POGOBALL, FOR CRYIN’ OUT LOUD!) which she promptly did break her arm on. She decided to jump on the pogoball near the edge of our yard, which ends at a hill…that leads to the street…which is where she landed…I still shudder at the thought of her doing anything that requires balance, grace, skill, or talent.

Wow, owwwee, hope you feel better soon, Elenfair.
I couldn’t help but laugh though, reminds me too much of my wife.
Now, I’m getting paranoid and think I should child proof the house and get rid of all those sharp corners. Damn, what to do about the pool table. :eek: :slight_smile:

Sounds like me in the army…:smiley:

I hit my head badly three times in my last six months. The first was when someone opened a door and my forehead was in the way. Blood everywhere. The second time was when I ran into a low hanging ventilation pipe in a bunker. Blood everywhere again, some stitches and a bald spot for a while. For the third incident, a bed fell on my head. Yes, a bed. I was having a nap on my bunk when the lunchtime call sounded. I was tired and didn’t wake up, so my boneheaded roommate starts to bang on the two-tier bunk to wake me up. Well, the crappy old top bunk’s support promptly failed and the whole thing lands on my head. Surprisingly no blood this time, just a huge lump on my head and an awful headache.
Head-bumpers unite! :smiley:

Well, Elenfair, here’s hoping you’re sleeping very very unsoundly and being woken up regularly.

Btw, I also have a large, unpleasant bump on my head, which apparently, according to my ever-sympathetic LO, makes me “look like a Klingon.” I am entirely sure that I don’t want to know what that might mean.

(I got it standing up. See, I dropped…oh, never mind. Let’s just say you should always look up before you stand up, and keep a close eye on where the dogs are. Anyway, Elenfair, you have my sympathy. And let me add that I firmly believe that such things could happen to anyone.)

i’m sure your sophie appreciates your war wound. she is probably cuddled up to you making you feel “all better.”

i hope the pounding subsides soon.

thanks all for your concern… and Jaakko, I feel your pain, dear. With me, it’s chronic. Doors have it in for me, especially.

I went back to the doctor this afternoon and he rushed me to get a head CT, what fun. Turns out there was some blood pooling behind my eye, hence the incredible pressure I was feeling. They gave me demerol (whee!) and sent me home with some tylenol 3 and an appointment with the olpht…ol…oph… well, ya know, the eye dude tomorrow morning at 7:30 am.

Darn chair.

Next time, the table’s gonna get it!


Deepbluesea, condolences about the bump. People were looking at me funny at the bank today when I dropped in to deposit a cheque.

Of course the fact my eye is all weird and slow to respond to the other eye’s movement sorta freaks them out. The doc said it would get better.



Oh yeah, aren’t head wounds just oh so fun? I managed to pass out in a hospital while my cousin was getting a shot, they didn’t believe me when I said I was squeamish. Did you know that hospitals have remarkably hard floors? Yeah, nice headache, and they insisted on an x-ray. Luckily there was no serious damage, though they gave me meds… in the form of shots… oh joy. I traded them in for pills at a local pharmacy but jeez.


I hope you aren’t married yet, because if you are, everyone’s going to think the guy’s a wife-beater! :slight_smile:

That would look really cool, actually. Like a gecko. I dub thee “Gecko Girl.”

Hm, I wonder if rocking chair has some inside information as to why the cast-iron chair attacked poor Elenfair

(Elenfair, btw, is a cool name. Do not change.)

Well, Gecko Girl (err, thanks, RickJay), reporting…

Looks like the eye thing will settle by itself. This, surprisingly perhaps, makes me very very happy.

As for the wife-beater thing, no I’m not married, and not involved with anyone right now (any takers? :smiley: ) but I’m sure it crossed these people’s minds.

At this point, people in ERs know me on a first name basis and rather than ask “who did this to you” they know to ask, “What the heck did you do this time?”

Bah, at least they have great stories for the Christmas parties…

:smiley: Elenfair

well, chairs do get a bit skittish if someone sneaks up on them and grope about under them. those cast iron ones ARE rather vicious, not like gentle, comforting rocking chairs.

elenfair, it sounds like they gave you some nice meds. when you enter the er do they call your name ala norm at cheers?

Ah-ha, Rockingchair, this is most intriguing… now I think I have you to answer all the questions I may well have on the topic of Chair Behaviorism.

As for the doctors and nurses, yes, they greet me with glee when I enter the ER, and normally call out “Someone call upstairs and book CT stat!” even before they look at me. Actually, it’s rather pathetic.

I’m lucky I still have use of my brain. I must surely lose a number of brain cells every time I whack my head against something. My doctor tells me that the long term prognosis is bad - he doesn’t believe I’m ever going to become less of a Superclutsus Commonus (Common North American Super Klutz)

:wink: E.