Since I was very little, my dad has taken me to our local ice rink almost every single weekend. Ice skating has been our hobby for as long as I can remember, meaning I have a lot of hours on that rink. Being on the ice is freeing... that is until something goes very wrong. My long streak of no injuries had lasted for a solid two or three years until my dad jinxed me. I'm convinced. It was either him or my witch friend putting a curse on me...
'I've never even seen you fall,' he said during a skate session last week. The following Saturday I had a nice five or ten minutes of skating before my streak was shattered. Somehow a guy managed to trip me and the next thing I'm on the ground looking up at six people who've just seen me slide a good ten metres. I don't specifically remember the falling, just the whole landing on my back with brute force and smacking my head against the ice. That I remember vividly.
I had a rest and finished out the session at a calmer pace than I would usually, but the pain didn't really set in until later. My abdomen started to feel like I'd done two weeks worth of working out in a single day, and lifting my head from a laid down position was excruciating so I'm just assuming I strained my neck. Today is the seventh day of recovery and I'm still in pain, but it'd minimal at this point.
I didn't go to the hospital or even get checked by a health professional because I'm way too stubborn and I hate that kind of thing, but if you hurt yourself in a similar way then please go get yourself checked. Better to be safe than sorry. All I did was make sure I didn't sleep until I was sure I didn't have a concussion - but even then it's really impossible for me to properly know. Be safe, be sensible.
Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
16/11/2017
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