Lockjaw
I can’t be left alone. For as much as I bitch and moan about wanting silence, you can’t leave me to my own devices, because it’s going to end in some sort of failure.
Jen once drove the kids to Florida with her mother, and I had to stay back because I was working on a stupid project for an even stupider client. I lived like an absolute wino, and had to spend the day before they returned cleaning up videogames, beer bottles and plates all over the house. Leaving me alone is like leaving an 8 year old alone with a credit card and matches.
I’m also incredibly impulsive, so leaving me alone usually ends with me spending money on something stupid that Jen would usually prevent me from purchasing. “Hey let me go buy that RIGHT NOW” constantly goes through my head.
It’s just a bad idea, even for a short amount of time.
The worst was the summer of 2002. It was, on record, the hottest summer in something like 20 years. I don’t know the exact temperature, I’m not a meteorologist but it was fucking hot. Jen took the kids to Newport to visit some family and swim in the pool, so I hung back. Uncle Jack came over and we were hanging out in the air conditioning watching TV. The A/C was set to about 40, and it was absolutely freezing in the room. For as much of a fan I am of global warming, I happen to love air conditioners set to the lowest temperature possible. After about an hour, I decided that I needed some Cheez-Its and Gatorade, so we decided to hit up Walmart, because most of the Cheez-Its there are good boxes.
Let me explain the Walmart in my town.
I some people like to goof on Walmart and the people who work and shop there. I’m also one of those people. There’s a woman who works as a greeter at the entrance who looks like Jabba the Hutt with the plague. I’m not sure the managers understand the concept of a greeter when they put this thing out there. It’s also filthy in there, not just the people, but also the floors, the walls, the clothes, everything. It smells like a porno set, and most of the employees look like they’re missing one, if not two chromosomes.
This is where we decided to get Cheez-Its and Gatorade. Stuff you put in your mouth.
Do not ride.
Uncle Jack needed to get one of those industrial sized bags of dog food for the convalescent home of animals that live at his house. We each got our own carriage, only because I didn’t want to have to actually carry those two items through the store, and we headed to the shoe section.
Side note: What kind of a fucking store sells food and shoes?
I needed some new sandals, so I tossed a pair of those into my carriage as well. This is key to the story: I only had sandals, Gatorade and Cheez-Its in my shopping carriage. We headed to checkout with myself in front, and I paid the crone working the register for my 3 items. Placing them back into the carriage, I started to head to the exit. Imagine my glee. I had Cheez-Its, Gatorade and a new pair of sandals. I was so excited that I did what every kid does with a shopping carriage. Running at top speed, I pushed myself up on the handle to ride the carriage out the exit door.
That’s when it happened.
The back tires slipped out from under me, and the carriage flipped towards me. I ended upside down, inside the carriage with my hands pinned beneath the handle. I was going about 88 mph, so I skidded a good 6 feet with my hands pinned, and me upside down in the carriage. Standing up, I looked at my hands, and the skin on the top of both my hands was gone. I could actually see bone on my knuckles. I grabbed my bag out of the carriage and RAN out the door.
Uncle Jack came outside and asked me what the hell happened, and I showed him my hands. “I heard a crash, was that you?” The shock had started to wear off, and it was really starting to hurt.
“I think you need to go to the emergency room.”
“I think you need to call Jen”, was my response.
He called Jen, on her way back from Newport, and she didn’t believe him. I can’t really blame her, only because we’re constantly making stuff up to mess with people. We decided against the ER, only because I didn’t want to have to explain what happened. We headed right home where I put my hands into ice water to cool them down. They were literally smoking. There was little blood, only because the heat from the rug burn had cauterized the wounds.
After about 24 hours, another pain showed up.
My jaw was hurting, and I was having trouble talking and chewing. Being the hypochondriac that I am, I started to think about where I actually had my spill. I had rubbed all the skin off my hand on the black rug at the entrance/exit of the store. I could only imagine the diseases that were on that rug as people walked in and out of that place all day.
I was convinced I had lockjaw. Not to mention, that the only time I’ve ever even heard of lockjaw was in an episode of the Three Stooges, but I knew that was the problem. With my hands covered in Neosporin, and wrapped in gauze, I gave up, and headed to outpatient. I sat there; explaining through clenched teeth to the doctor the entire story, and that I thought I was a victim of lockjaw.
“Let me look at your hands”, was his first concern. Examining my literal meat hooks, he told me that first of all, I had 3rd degree rug burns on my hands. There was nothing to stitch, because there was nothing there. He gave me some ointment to cover my hands, and told me that I was lucky that I fell on a rug, and not on the cement outside the store. I commented that if that had happened, I wouldn’t be cracking up the entire Walmart staff as they watched the security footage of a 6’2” 240 lb male caged upside down in a shopping cart.
Examining my jaw, he proceeded to look at my ear. “Have you been exposed to extreme cold, and then heat recently?”
“Like what?”
“Well, have you been somewhere really cold, and then gone somewhere really hot?”
“I was in some A/C before I went to the store, yeah.”
“Well, that’s probably it. You have an ear infection.”
So in the span of 24 hours, not only did I completely destroy my hands, but I gave myself an ear infection as well.
“So, is there anything else you want to let me know, or do you have any other questions for me?” he asked.
“Yes, can you please call my wife, and tell her not to leave me alone anymore? Bad things happen.”
