The House of Pain, Part 2


I have no idea why, but I seem to have decided that I should suffer some sort of serious injury on an annual basis. This is the latest in the sequence, a nice knee gash I suffered on April 30, 1999.

Carey and I had gone to Llano, Texas, for a friend's birthday party. We were having a great time when a huge thunderstorm blew up. For a while, we all took refuge in the Dabbs Hotel, where we were spending the night, but when the rain let up, Carey and few other people decided to head off to the Spooky Train Bridge to watch the lightning storm.

A few minutes later, I went to join them.

As I walked along the train tracks with a couple of friends, I somehow managed to trip over one of the railroad ties. As I started to pick myself up, I did a quick inventory and realized my left knee was cut pretty bad. I sat up and looked at it in the moonlight and saw the kneecap shining out from a big, bloody wound. One of the people with me took one look and ran to tell Carey, "Dave's hurt really bad. You're gonna freak out."

By the time Carey caught up to me, I was walking the quarter-mile or so back to the Dabbs so I could get a ride to the hospital and get sewn up. We got to the car and made our way to the Llano Hospital ER, where I got 35 stitches.

(Added lucky bonus. I checked into the ER at approximately 12.04 am on May 1, 1999. My health insurance - with emergency care included - went into effect at 12.01 am.)

Amazingly, aside from being a nasty cut, there was no serious damage. The kneecap did its job and protected the tendons and ligaments from all harm. I did a few weeks' worth of rehab and now I'm fine.

Hopefully, this will be the last installment of this gruesome saga.

If you're at all squeamish, or underage, or whatever,

DON'T LOOK!

Okay. If you're up for it, Click Here.

Or you can go to the original House of Pain.

Otherwise, get back to the Capitol of the Republic.