The Injury That Traumatized Me for LIFE

I'm sharing today because this singular event shaped the entire rest of my life it's Writer's Workshop over at Mama Kat's and this was one of the prompts: "Tell us about that scar!"

This is going to be a little difficult because I have forgotten some of the details.

If you are squeamish, don't look.

Do you see the disfiguring scar?  Right there!  That red gash mark in the middle of the picture.  It used to be right on the bridge of my nose.  Now that it's about 3/4" down from the bridge, we can tell how I've aged, or how much my nose has grown in 30 years - either one.

I was 11ish which would make my brother 8ish or at least old enough to know better.
We had just gotten home from school, at least I had.
I had gone in and put my books away, cleaned out my thermos, and offered to help my mom with the little boys.
My dawdling brother was out in the backyard still - daydreaming about being a super hero.

I went outside to taunt him and tell him that Mom said we had to come in and get ready to go to Primary.
Oh I can see it.
I was standing on the back porch - it was a covered raised cement with a beautiful indor/outdoor carpet.  It was huge and perfect for paying "Little House on the Prairie".......where I would play all the good parts like Mary and Nellie and my minions would play the lesser roles.
But anyway.
I stood at the porch and told my brother that he had to HURRY!
"Mom said to get in here right now!"
But I wouldn't let him step up on the porch.
He wouln't come.
I might have said "Nah, nah, nah, nah , nah." but that would be out of context with "Come on, my wonderful, favorite, charming brother."
So I probably didn't say that.

Anyway, he grew frusrated.  Not as frustrated as the time he actually reached the porch, but once again, ahead of him, I locked him out and he wet his pants in the 17 degree weather.  You should have seen the steam coming off that carpet.

So - he's frustrated and he's looking for ways to get onto the porch.
As he sweeps the area, looking for ways to dodge me and enter from a different angle,
he sees this

an old Wild Wild West lunchbox cast off to rust away in the yard.  That old thing was from 1969 and it was so yesterday.

But he lit on an idea.  He picked up the rusty lunchbox with the lid hanging half off,  He tore off the lid and held it up like a Frisbee.

"Quit teasing me, or I will throw this at you."

Maybe here is where I said, "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."

But the next thing I knew, WHACK, it hit me right on the bridge of my nose-about a hair's width from putting my eye out.

I ran bloodied and screaming into the house.

I don't remember what happened after that because obviously, I have suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder since then.  I'm still trying to put it behind me.

People don't even notice it ask me about THAT SCAR all the time.

My brother and I regale everyone with the our own versions the story.

I should have sued him!