Hard-headedness exposes how soft noggins really are

My son asked that I not write about this.

What? And miss a chance to speak for parents everywhere?

Not a prayer, son. Not a prayer.

Here’s what happened:

One evening last week, I was sitting outside, sipping a glass of lemonade when the phone rang.

My wife answered it and, even though I couldn’t hear everything, I caught the high spots. Her tone and the words “hospital” and “head injury” were like a shot to the solar plexus.

I began breathing again when I realized she was speaking to my son who was explaining why he was in a local emergency room.

My son is 19 and, like many others his age, a bit hardheaded. He’s also, like many others his age, a skateboarder.

For years, I’ve been on him about safety gear. I knew elbow and kneepads were a pipe dream, but I fought for that helmet. I even bought him one. Didn’t work because helmets aren’t cool. Apparently, amongst the skateboard set, they’re for wusses.

Funny thing about wusses. You seldom find them in emergency rooms with serious head injuries.

So, while I still feel the anger that washed over me after the relief passed, I’d like to explain a few things to you skateboarders whose number hasn’t come up … yet.

Guys, if you examine the concrete, rails, benches and whatever else you skateboard on or near, you’ll notice these things all have two common characteristics. They’re all (1) hard; and (2) thicker than your skull.

In prudent circles, this would start something like the following train of thought:

When you set a body in motion on a downhill path, it acquires both speed and energy. When you then attempt some trick on a skateboard and blow it, that speed is undiminished and the energy remains stored in your body which is now conforming to certain immutable laws of ballistics.

Eventually, you meet up with whichever of those hard things is nearest to hand. That’s when your body comes to a sudden stop and all of that energy is released.

If you’re lucky, it’s some scraped skin and maybe a sprain or a minor break.

My son’s luck ran out last week.

He landed on his back and whipped the rear of his skull into the concrete. The concrete was unscathed. My son, however, opened up a 3-inch gash on the back of his head. The concussion, bleeding, bruising and imbedded pebbles were just icing on the cake.

My wife and I met him in the emergency room. There, he’d already undergone X-rays, a CAT scan, and several other tests to make sure things wouldn’t get any worse than they already were.

When I asked if he’d been wearing his helmet, he said: “Dad, I was only skateboarding for a few minutes.”

“And the fall took how long?” was my tight-lipped response.

Later, I got to watch him being sewn up. I didn’t count the stitches because I was busy adjusting the light for the doctor.

With this as prologue, guys, here’s my (and every parent’s) point.

I know we get on your nerves. I know you hate repeatedly hearing “the lecture” on helmets. However, the hit my son took could have turned off things like breathing and heartbeats. It could have shut down reading and speaking. It could have snuffed out balance which – now follow me here – would’ve put an end to skateboarding.

Getting the drift?

Your brain is not unbreakable. When damaged, however, it is often irreparable. Ride without a helmet and you might get to live with that.

My son could have experienced any of the above. He could have, in fact, died.

For not wearing a damned helmet.

One day, guys, you’ll marry and have kids. Pray that, when you do, you never get a phone call and hear words like “hospital” and “head injury” in the same sentence because they’ll turn your guts to water. Then you’ll understand the lectures.

And if you’re wondering why I was adjusting the lights while the doctor stitched up my son’s head, it was because a lot of people were busy with another teenager just down the way. That soul had taken some drugs and was undergoing an intensely unpleasant procedure called “stomach pumping.”

I wish I could’ve taped the sounds I heard to have them played at every school in the area. The human voice screaming at the upper end of its register has always had the power to influence others.

Helmets and drugs.

Wear one and, for God’s sake, stay the hell away from the other.

The price for doing otherwise is staggering.

Larry Simoneaux is a freelance writer living in Edmonds. Comments can be sent to: larrysim@att.net.