Ever Clubbed Someone in the Head?
It’s not old news that I have always lacked common sense and athleticism, but I didn’t think to this degree…
The day began like any other ordinary day. Taylor and I decided that for today’s Sunday activity that we would go to the Smash Factory, an indoor golf simulator. Little did we knew that we would walk in all geeked and ready to play ball, but leave a bloody mess. We started out by warming up on the driving range, practicing our swings and such. I was struggling to make contact with the golf ball because apparently my swing is horrendous according to Taylor. We would later come to find out that my swing isn’t only horrendous, but deadly… but alas, I’m getting ahead of myself with our story. Eventually, I got fed up listening to Taylor’s golfing pointers and we started our 9-hole game.
The first hole literally took so long because I kept hitting the ball only 10 yards at a time. Taylor could tell my impatient nature was getting the best of me and decided to help me with my swing for the second hole. He gently put his hands on my shoulders to prevent me from bouncing up when I swung. I still couldn’t make contact with the stupid ball, so he decided to help guide me from behind.
In my head I was thinking, aw this is my cute movie moment - you know, where the guy puts his arms around the girl to help her swing the club. I was so busy living in my movie moment that I wasn’t paying attention to how hard I was actually swinging. Suddenly, I hear, “AHH,” followed by Taylor glaring at me, wincing in pain. He was holding the side of his head and I thought to myself he’s just being dramatic. However, when he removed his hand from his head there was blood everywhere…
“There’s literally a divot in my head,” Taylor says with tears in his eyes. I have only seen Taylor cry maybe three times in the entirety of our relationship, so this was just a sight to see for me. Luckily, the owner was watching this whole chaotic mess unravel and helped us out.
“You definitely need stitches,” the owner says as he examined the small hole in Taylor’s head. At this point, Taylor’s hands were shaking so much that he could barely hold his phone to call the Grab (Indonesian Uber). I was absolutely stunned. You know that feeling you get after something super bad or devastating happens, like waking up the next morning after a breakup or in someone else’s bed after a drunken night out, wondering how the hell did I get here? That was me.
The Grab arrived about five minutes later. Taylor gets in the car with the homemade ice pack the Smash Factory staff gave him, with his hands still shaking. I tell the Grab driver to book it to the nearest hospital. Sidenote - there are surprisingly a lot of clinics and hospitals all around Bali, so it was quite easy to find one. On the way there, I’m trying to calm Taylor down, asking him questions to keep him from completely breaking down.
“What are you most scared of in this very moment,” I asked, realizing that was probably the wrong thing to say to someone that has just had their head bashed in.
“I hate the doctors, especially in a different country. And, I’ve never had stitches,” he replied. I didn’t even think about how unsettling going to an unknown healthcare facility in a different country would be. I mean think about it, when you go to the doctor in your home country, you feel comfortable, safe, and you know the drill. But when you go to a doctor in another country, those feelings of security are taken away and replaced with extreme vulnerability and anxiety. I felt this gut-wrenching guilt in the pit of my stomach. I’m definitely not winning girlfriend of the year in 2022.
We finally made it to Siloam Hospital, after what felt like a 30 minute Grab ride (stupid, inconvenient traffic). Taylor stumbled out of the car, making our way to the entrance of the hospital. It turned out that the hospital was in a mall for some odd reason, so we had to navigate a way through people and stores. People seemed to move out of our way pretty fast when they noticed blood dripping from Taylor’s ear and onto his shirt.
I eventually spotted the hospital entrance, running in and saying, “Help please! My boyfriend needs stitches.” Looking back, I was probably a touch dramatic. They took Taylor into the emergency clinic and it looked like something out of an episode from Grey’s Anatomy. There were patients in every curtained room, with doctors buzzing all around. The nurse placed Taylor in a room next to a girl crying out in Indonesian for dear mercy. It was honestly traumatic and did not help with Taylor’s increased anxiety.
I had to step out to fill out paperwork, leaving Taylor to fend for himself. I came back after Taylor sent me a text saying, “Screw this please come back, they have big needles.” I found it ironic that Taylor was scared of this because as a Type 1 diabetic, he gives himself probably seven shots a day.
I make it back in time for the procedure and watched the whole thing. Taylor had a death-grip on both of my hands as the doctor gave him his numbing shot in his head. I will spare you the rest of the gory details, but let’s just say that it was done in a jiffy.
Three stitches later, the worst was finally over. Taylor left in one piece, wearing a white bandage over his wound that kind of looked like a white hair accessory lol. Overall, the trip to Siloam Hospital was quite the experience. I kept telling Taylor that now he could say he’s been clubbed over the head with a nine iron.
Taylor followed up my weak joke with, “I didn’t need to ever say that.”
Taylor if you’re reading this, I’m so sorry once again :)
