Woe Is Me -- Part 2

In the spirit of the season, a Christmas story for you:

I was an angel in the church Christmas pageant. (Don't laugh.) I had silver tinsel for a halo, and a white robe.

My mom directed it, which makes Big Idea Number 4.

Our last song was "Mary Had A Baby". We sang it as we processed out of the church.

"Mary had a baby, yes, Lord. Mary had a baby, yes, my Lord. Mary had a baby, yes, Lord! The people keep a comin' but the train done gone."

This is the last thing I remember before waking up in a orange-yellowish plastic chair in the parish hall. I opened my eyes to see Maria sitting across from me looking very afraid. "Kara?" she croaks at me.

"Kara, honey? How are you?" my dad asks.

"What happened?" I struggle to say, trying to figure out why I wasn't running around with all the rest of the kids.

I must've blacked out again because I don't remember getting into Noah's car. He was driving, my dad was in the passenger seat, and my mom and I were in the back.

"Kara, say your ABCs," Mom orders me.

"I know my ABCs. I don't need to say them," I argue.

"Say them anyway," she commands.

I guess I did, I don't remember. She had to keep me awake. Apparently, while having a jolly time running around the parish hall, some kid ran into me, and I fell backwards, smashing my head on the ground. I was knocked out. Maria saw the whole thing.

They took me to the hospital, which was about a 15 minute drive from the church. Noah made it in 5.

I threw up once they got me into the examination room. On that day, I felt like a I threw up a thousand times, and every time I did, they had to move me to a different room.

This isn't true, of course. I only threw up once while they examined me. I was okay, but my mother was given strict orders to wake me up every hour for the next 24 hours. I don't remember that, either.

I'll tell you what I do remember about being knocked out. It's kind of odd.

If you ever pick up a koozie, squeeze it -- just once. It probably won't give you a headache, but it does give me one. For a long time, I didn't know why that happened, but at some point I realized that when you squeeze a koozie, that's what your brain feels like when it collides with your skull. A squishy, weak mass capable of being demolished by one good smash.