I’ve decided the Emergency Room is just about the worst place to have déjà vu. I’m sure the only places worse are torture dungeons and Justin Bieber concerts.
Yesterday, just at that exact moment the doctor pushed one finger deep inside a part of me that doesn’t ever want fingers pushed deep inside, I grabbed the hospital bed, shook in terrific pain, glanced up, and noticed a camera above us in the room. Was this being recorded? Had I been watched the last hour or so that I was grunting and groaning and holding my throbbing butt?
As those thoughts came, so did those terrible déjà vu thoughts. I have lived this moment before. I have seen this before. I have thought these thoughts before. I knew exactly what the doctor was about to say. I knew exactly what was about to happen. And it all went exactly as I didn’t remember remembering what I was suddenly remembering.
And who wants to live a moment like the one I was having more than once? I sure don’t.
As the déjà vu got thicker and weirder, darkness suddenly filled me. I knew what was next. The doctor was going to come in and tell me that I was about to die. At that point, it was inevitable. Too many things had lined up exactly. I had already seen it. I had already heard it. The news of my forthcoming death was about to be given to me… again. Déjà vu is one twisted son of a gun.
Seconds later the déjà vu went away and my brain caught back up to reality. The doctor never walked in and told me I was going to die, though death would certainly be less painful than whatever the hell I was going through yesterday.
Now, this is a sensitive subject. I have an ass injury. And it has gotten bad. And I haven’t really told anyone. If that’s going to offend you, don’t get all butt-hurt about it (pun intended), close this blog post and go read about some perfect blogger’s life somewhere else where people don’t end up in hospitals with serious problems involving their butts.
It all started with the last Tough Mudder. About half way through, I fell on my ass. And hard. I don’t think anyone saw it. I was at the back of the pack and jumped up pretty quickly. It hurt; I knew my tailbone would be mad at me later. But I kept going.
As the Tough Mudder course progressed, I realized there was something more than a bruised tailbone going on. Every time I lifted a teammate, or hoisted myself up on something, or whatever, I felt an increasingly disconcerting sensation like the inside of my colon was slowly herniating, or something like that. I don’t know. It didn’t really hurt. I just know it didn’t all feel, umm, intact anymore.