28/28: Post number 1990

And then I was thirteen

And I have never, in my life had pain as bad as the period pains I had then.

Now admittedly, I’ve not had a baby. I’ve never, in fact, broken a bone, or fractured one, or puntured a lung or recieved an axe wound to the face. Or been run over, or had anything particularly heavy fall on me, or had an accident running with scissors. Or been shot. Or hanged. I’ve never had an operation, I’ve had four stitches in my entire life, I’ve never had a brain scan, a brain hemorrhage, a brain tumour, a heart bypass, transplant or massage (I’ve had a head massage, mind). I still have all my organs. I’ve never slept in a hospital bed. I have never, ever fallen off a building of more than 60 stories in height.

Overall, I’ve had a pretty dull life, it has to be said.

And the period pains, the ones I had throughout my teenage years, were also dull. Not just in the sense of that dull, throbbing, crippling pain that left my legs too weak to walk and caused me to faint, but dull in the sense of boring, in the sense that I knew that they were coming, that there was nothing stopping them, and that frankly, there is nothing as dull as the inevitable.

So enough of that. I realise more than half my readers are likely to be men, and quite frankly the ‘I’m a girl, I have periods, meh meh meh‘ was never quite my line.

But still, the fact remains, if I’m trying to place a memory in my early teens, I remember musicals, which I’ll talk about another point, and starting to fall in love with a) Indie music and b) a different boy two days, which I’ll also talk about later, and I also remember the cot bed in the nurses room where I’d go and lie down when the period pains got too bad. Every month, they got too bad.

Conveniently, they used to get mostly ‘too bad’ quite near the beginning of Maths class, or a different class that I happened not to have done my homework for. Having said that, I’m sure those pains were as real as they were mighty, and not a product of teenage over-dramatics even a bit. Nono.

Nonono.

Oh come on, it’s a good way of livening up a dull life.

Speaking of which, I did get strangled once. But that’s another story. In the meantime, for sake of completism

A full list of my injuries and medical procedures:

– Birth. I was in hospital for a couple of days.

– Large gash on left hip. Cause: hydrangea leaves and rocks, later, slightly gangrenous complications, cause: slightly more complicated things. Age: about 8.

– Concussion. Age: 9. Cause: Showing off, dancing on top of a chest of drawers.

– Dislocated shoulder. Age: 17. Cause: Running down hill to fetch hymnbook. Damn God.

– Two wisdom teeth removed under sedation. Age: 18.

– Two wisdom teeth removed under General Anaesthetic. Age: 19.

– Torn ligament in foot (undiagnosed). Age: 26.

– Hurty nose. Possibly a tiny tiny bit broken, unless I’m being overdramatic and it wasn’t in the slightest. Age: 27

Yes, I know, dull.

And you know, writing it down, it looks even more ridiculous than I thought it would. 28 years. 7 noticable medical incidents. That’s ridiculous.

Am I ridiculously below average? Because that sounds ridiculously below average. Are you all sitting there, counting off the seven medical emergencies you have every year? The more I think about it, the more freakishly lucky I’ve been.

I am so totally due a running-over.