Gum Injury

The day I collided with the kid across the street

From iStock-2182226810

I’ve posted about the day I had stitches in my leg here. When I had stitches in my gum, I was younger. This will be the last of my injury posts. I’ve never broken a bone and have only had stitches twice. I’d say that’s a pretty good record, so far.

Imagine a hot summer evening in suburban Houston, TX, in the late 1950s. The temperature was probably in the 80s, with 80% humidity. Small brick houses with tidy green lawns lined the street. The cicadas shrieked, and mosquitoes hummed.

Another sound heard was the neighborhood kids playing Hide-and-Go-Seek outside. The rules were pretty simple. One kid was “It,” who hid his eyes and counted to a predetermined number while the rest of us scattered to hide. The goal of the game was to get to home base without being tagged by “It.” The game required stealth and quickness. Could you sneak behind Its back to reach the tree, or maybe run faster than the person who was It?

Playing outside on hot evenings was one of my favorite pastimes. The home base was the tree in the yard of our neighbor’s house across the street. I had hidden around the side of the house. When It called out that he was coming to find people and headed off to the other side of the house, I thought it was my time to run to the tree.

Unfortunately, and unknown to me, Barry, whose yard we were playing in, decided to run around the house toward my hiding spot to find a better place to hide. We were both running and collided at the corner of the house. Smack and ouch.

What a shock. I was running full speed around a corner when I collided with another kid who was also running. I was taller than he was, and my front teeth hit his forehead. I fell to the ground while holding my mouth, and I’m sure I had blood streaming between my fingers toward my wrist. Later, as we kids dissected the incident, I found out that Barry had two indentations from my front teeth in the skin of his forehead and a headache. I had a split upper gum and lip.

I ran home, probably screaming as loudly as I could. Mother came to the door, looked at my bloody face, and went to get one of Dad’s handkerchiefs. She pressed it to my mouth, grabbed her purse, and helped me into the car. I honestly don’t know what she did with the other kids. Was my older sister left with them? Was Dad home? Did they go to a neighbor’s house? I don’t know, and Mother isn’t around to ask anymore, nor is my sister.

Mother drove me to the nearest emergency room, probably Heights Hospital. I imagine my little body sitting in the passenger seat of the car, seatbeltless (because nobody had seatbelts then), with a blood-stained, once-white handkerchief pressed to my mouth.

The emergency room staff probably called our family doctor, Dr. Nance. Mother told me later that she was so relieved when he walked in because she highly respected his surgical skills. She knew him well since she often worked in his office as a substitute nurse whenever his regular nurse needed time off.

Nowadays, a plastic surgeon would handle your child’s facial injury, but back then, it was your friendly neighborhood GP. I don’t remember much about the stitching itself, but I do remember the aftermath. I had cotton under my front lip, which made it bulge out, and stitches in my gum. My siblings teased me about my new look. The stitches felt so foreign to my tongue when I ventured to touch them.

Mother put me on the fold-out couch in the front room to keep an eye on me. The fold-out couch was the place where we kids recovered from injuries. Eventually, the stitches dissolved except one. Mother took me back to Dr. Nance, and he pulled it out, which hurt a lot, but he was quick.

I’ve had dentists tell me how nice and clean the scar I have on my upper gum is. Mother’s evaluation of Dr. Nance’s surgical skills turned out to be correct.

As a child, did you ever injure yourself while playing outside with friends?