So maybe I should have written this blog a while ago, but it’s probably good that I waited to make sure the wound totally healed. Six weeks ago, halfway through my month in Romania. I got stitches. And I felt like one silly American.
So here’s the story. There were a handful of awesome men in Romania in their 20s. They played soccer together every week, and so I was so excited to go with them. We went at night to this lit up field with 25ish locals. It was really fun. I was able to keep up with them in terms of conditioning, but their skills were of course way better than me. We played hard for 2 hours, and I probably made more mistakes than good plays for my team. We finished up around 11 pm. We walked back to the 2 cars we had driven to the field, which were parked on a dark street. I was standing by the car I had rode to the field in when the driver of the other car told me that he was going to drive me home. As I turned and stepped towards his car, I dropped. And by dropped, I mean, the earth that I thought was beneath me just didn’t exist. I looked up, not sure what had just happened, and saw the faces of all those Romanian teenagers looking at me as if I couldn’t be any dumber. I pulled myself out of the chest-deep man-hole, got in the car, and we drove home. I could tell I hit my shin, but a quick look with my phone revealed some blood that I figured I would just wash off in the shower. After the 10 minute drive home, I was about to get out of the car when the driver insisted 3 times on seeing my leg before I left. We turned on the light, and saw about an inch of bone exposed. I knew I had to go to the hospital, but because of my denial that I was going to a hospital just two weeks into my 11 month World Race, I asked the affirmation of nurse Amanda Stoesz. It was obvious I needed to go.
The ride to the hospital was hilarious. I laughed so hard along with my 2 Romanian buddies that drove me. I just kept saying, “guys, I’m in Romania on this 11 month trip, I played soccer with you, fell in a man-hole, and am now going to the hospital!” I couldn’t get over how funny it was. I kept laughing when the nurses gave me 3 jenky stitches instead of the 7 or 8 that I really needed. I kept laughing when they told me the ERs in Romania are free… I kept expecting a big bill. I guess for this one instance I say thank you socialized medicine. I didn’t laugh quite as much when the wound got infected a week later, but am grateful now that it is healed. My team prayed for the cut when it got infected, and every day since then it has improved.
When explaining my scar, people tell me I should say a shark bit me or that I got cut in a fight or something extreme. However, I think I might use it to tell others about my World Race trip, the unexplainable yet undeniable love and salvation that Christ gives to every person who desires a relationship with Him, and laugh about the fact that I am one silly American who fell in a manhole.
So here’s the story. There were a handful of awesome men in Romania in their 20s. They played soccer together every week, and so I was so excited to go with them. We went at night to this lit up field with 25ish locals. It was really fun. I was able to keep up with them in terms of conditioning, but their skills were of course way better than me. We played hard for 2 hours, and I probably made more mistakes than good plays for my team. We finished up around 11 pm. We walked back to the 2 cars we had driven to the field, which were parked on a dark street. I was standing by the car I had rode to the field in when the driver of the other car told me that he was going to drive me home. As I turned and stepped towards his car, I dropped. And by dropped, I mean, the earth that I thought was beneath me just didn’t exist. I looked up, not sure what had just happened, and saw the faces of all those Romanian teenagers looking at me as if I couldn’t be any dumber. I pulled myself out of the chest-deep man-hole, got in the car, and we drove home. I could tell I hit my shin, but a quick look with my phone revealed some blood that I figured I would just wash off in the shower. After the 10 minute drive home, I was about to get out of the car when the driver insisted 3 times on seeing my leg before I left. We turned on the light, and saw about an inch of bone exposed. I knew I had to go to the hospital, but because of my denial that I was going to a hospital just two weeks into my 11 month World Race, I asked the affirmation of nurse Amanda Stoesz. It was obvious I needed to go.
The ride to the hospital was hilarious. I laughed so hard along with my 2 Romanian buddies that drove me. I just kept saying, “guys, I’m in Romania on this 11 month trip, I played soccer with you, fell in a man-hole, and am now going to the hospital!” I couldn’t get over how funny it was. I kept laughing when the nurses gave me 3 jenky stitches instead of the 7 or 8 that I really needed. I kept laughing when they told me the ERs in Romania are free… I kept expecting a big bill. I guess for this one instance I say thank you socialized medicine. I didn’t laugh quite as much when the wound got infected a week later, but am grateful now that it is healed. My team prayed for the cut when it got infected, and every day since then it has improved.
When explaining my scar, people tell me I should say a shark bit me or that I got cut in a fight or something extreme. However, I think I might use it to tell others about my World Race trip, the unexplainable yet undeniable love and salvation that Christ gives to every person who desires a relationship with Him, and laugh about the fact that I am one silly American who fell in a manhole.
