I'm not really entering the contest, I just feel like telling my story.
When we bought this house we had a stoop and small concrete pad out the back door. We debated whether to put in a patio or deck, but since the family business is concrete construction we went with patio.
This meant breaking out the stoop and pad. My husband wasn't one to have a crew do his personal stuff. We did it all ourselves, and I was not allowed to slack even on the excuse of being a woman. Those were the days of a "jack hammer", the kind you had to put your weight into. I wanted to give it a try.
I'm not a small girl by any means, I was 6' of Amazon Warrior in those days. The smile he was trying to hide should have been my first clue. The fact that he was wearing safety goggles should have been my second.
Well, I started out ok. And then it started to get away from me. Not knowing that if I'd just let go it would stop I was afraid to. I knew I was going to fall on top of it and I was afraid to let go because I thought it would really get away from me and hurt me. So as it moved forward because I also didn't know you had to be on top of it and not have it out in front of you and as it pulled me down I just fell straight forward onto my face. I never put my hands out to break my fall, just fell forward like a toppled tree. You could have yelled "TIIIIMMMMMBer".
I fell face first on broken concrete. Luckily I did have my regular glasses on which were plastic lenses. From the gouge in my glasses I'd have most definitely have had an eye out. As it was I was bleeding from several other gashes and was pretty well bruised and scraped up.
Sitting at the kitchen table crying while my husband got wet towels and ice I kept reliving the incident. It's amazing what you can think of in the matter of seconds as you're going down. Your life doesn't exactly flash in front of you but you do think pretty clearly about what's going on.
He was very worried. He kept looking at me not knowing what to do and he kept asking me if I was all right. Since I had gotten up on my own and walked into the kitchen on my own I figured my face must be pretty bad because nothing else was broken. I wondered what he wasn't telling me. He said "well, it's not so bad. You might need a few stitches for the split lip but you keep crying. There must be something you're not telling ME"
There was. And I finally managed to catch my breath and stammer it out. I'd been sitting there re-living it and this was my answer...."what...what..what if the neighbors saw me?!?!"
I felt like such an idiot.
It wasn't the pain, it wasn't the blood, it wasn't fear of disfigurement and/or vanity, I was flat out embarassed.