My Halloween Costume Just Sort of FELL Into Place

[WARNING: There is a gory photo in this post. And lots of other photos, too.]

People are forever telling me what good eyebrows I have. Personally, I think they're a bit pointy (they grow that way, they aren't tweezed that way), but, you know, I like compliments, & I'd say they're my most complimented feature. Here they are in all their glory in my admittedly cheesy work headshot:

Or at least that's what they used to look like. This week, disaster struck when, while getting out of the shower, I fell in such a way that I slammed my head into the porcelain toilet paper holder. Yes, I know, who does that? I do. I did. And I immediately sunk back into the tub, naked & bloody, to scream & hyperventilate. My first thought when my head made contact with the holder was, "STITCHES!" & it quickly became clear that I was going to need them.

Nathan, staying totally cool & calm, found me a towel with which to apply pressure & mop up the blood, then gathered (yesterday's) clothes for me to wear to the ER. All the while, I moaned repetitions of, "Oh, God. OHHHHHH!" in a very helpful manner. I even contemplated drying my hair before we left, but I settled on wearing a necklace instead, because by golly, if I'm going to head into the ER looking like a zombie, I'd like to feel like a lady while I do it.

The carnage (warning: it's carnage-y) looked like this:

That, ladies & gentleman, is a make-up free me with a formerly beautiful left eyebrow that is cut in half - like, it's in two totally different places on my face. Though you can't tell from the photo, I actually hit my head so hard that I split it down to the skull bone. When John Smith (yes, really), the physician's assistant who worked on me, pulled apart the wound to check, I think my squeamish boyfriend almost passed out at the sight. Upon my request, John was also quite enthusiastic about letting Nate take photos during the stitching process, which the blogger in me greatly appreciated.

Obviously, my biggest fear was that my face would be permanently disfigured, a la Scar from The Lion King, when my wound finally healed. Though he offered me the opportunity to go with a plastic surgeon instead, John assured me that he was an expert in not effing up facial stitching, I entrusted him with the future of my face. He was knowledgeable & kind, walking me through every step of the process - including the injection of a lot of novocaine. When all was said & done & he was finished completing my facial masterpiece, my face-saving hero was kind enough to pose for a photo with me for the blog. THANK YOU, JOHN SMITH!

He didn't love my response when I first saw his handiwork, which was, "Oh my God, I look disgusting!" but let's be real: I look way less disgusting with stitches than I did with an open head wound:

And that initially droopy eye disappeared pretty quickly, except for when I woke up this morning with a gnarly shiner. Haven't had one of these since I was a kid at summer camp who got smacked in the face with a canoe oar!

For those who want it spelled out for them, here's a timeline of my face. I'm not smiling in most of them because it hurt to move my facial muscles:

 

Overall, I'm feeling really fortunate that I didn't hurt myself any worse than I did. I'm in a ton of pain, but I'm thankful for the Vicodin John Smith prescribed me & for the fact that I work from home, which means I can space out a little bit midday when the aforementioned Vicodin begins to do its job. I'm hopeful that when the stitches come out on Monday, I won't, in fact, look like a female version of Frankenstein's monster.

Until then, I'm a walking Halloween costume. What to be, what to be? So many scarred options!

 

Photos: Bond villain, Azazel, Harry Potter, Scar, Scarface, Frankenstein, Zombie