Bruise

I’m pretty sure I have a bruise. Well, I know I have at least one–on my knee–but I have one on my head, too. I think

You see, I can’t actually see it. It’s about and inch and a half back from my forehead hairline. So I can’t see it through the hair. But I can feel it. I’m certain the skin is bruised. And feeling the bump–because you have to feel the bump–it feels like even the bone is swollen. Straight across the top of my head.

But then, that’s what happens when you slam your head, with full body strength, into the top edge of a bus escape door.

Indeed, I spent Friday night wondering if I had a nasty concussion. I’m pretty sure I have some kind of concussion. I’m surprised, actually, that I didn’t crack my skull open. It still hurts. A lot.

The problem is, I suspect the bruise I can’t see is going to migrate. Like all great bruises do. I’ve already got what feels like the continuation of the huge line across my head down behind my ear. I’m just worried it’s going to wander down my forehead.

How do you explain that, anyway… “I know my face looks like I got in a fight with a shovel and lost, but honest, it was just a bus… Yellow/ purple/ green skin goes good with my wardrobe this season, anyway.”

Um… yeah. Time for another advil.