This is your place to talk about the funny, sad, outrageous things that are happening in your life -- whenever you're ready.
It was the spring of my sophomore year of high school. I was a quiet, naive 14-year-old who listened to My Chemical Romance and had never kissed a boy. I woke up around noon on a sunny Saturday, probably after a late night watching Lifetime movies with my three best friends, and went to the bathroom. I was wearing a pink, faux juicy couture velour sweatsuit and my glasses.
I walked across the hall to the bathroom and said good morning to my dad, who was sitting at the computer desk right next to the bathroom.
While I was sitting on the toilet, doing my thing, I was really tired, so much so that I leaned onto the toilet paper holder which was attached to the vanity. I guess I didn’t realize that the toilet paper holder probably couldn’t hold my body weight, so it gave in.
Then I lost my balance and fell into the vanity. My jaw hit (hard) the corner of the vanity. I fell to the ground and my jaw, at the exact same spot, hit the hard ceramic floor.
I was screaming and crying in pain, but I was still naked from the waist down. I knew my dad (who was right next to the bathroom) was going to hear me and run into the bathroom to see if I was okay. I didn’t want him to see me naked, so I used all my remaining strength to get those velour sweats back on.
I jumped up and pulled up my pants, while my head turned almost completely around as I screamed, “ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Then I fell back onto the cold, ceramic tile floor, and my jaw hit the floor, again, only this time I fell onto a dirty Aeropostale sweater.
After I hit the ground for the third time, my dad broke open the door and ran toward me and asked me what happened. I screamed, “I FELL OFF THE TOLIET!!!!!"
Then he asked me if I could move and I said, “NO YOU IDIOT!” (I know that’s mean and rude to my well-meaning dad, but whatever; I was in a lot of pain).
A few seconds after that, my mother came running upstairs to see what happened, my dad wouldn’t let her in the bathroom because he didn’t want her to get really upset and then get me more upset. So she just kept screaming outside and saying we should call 911 because she thought I was paralyzed.
Then, they decided that they should call 911, because I could clearly not move and was still crying. About five minutes later the paramedics came and in walked this tall, silver fox, who, get this, was British! I thought I was having a dream; falling off the toilet and being saved by a British paramedic? This could NOT be real life.
After I told him what happened, he yelled downstairs to his partner to bring up the gurney. Then he radioed the hospital and said (in a really hot British accent), “We have a 14 year old girl here. She fell of the commode while she was in the loo!”
I was cringing on the inside; I’m still embarrassed thinking about it all this time later.
They decided that, even though they didn’t think I was paralyzed, they would still take the safe route and strap me onto a spinal board to immobilize my spine. Then they put me on the gurney and rolled me down our driveway into the ambulance. While this was happening, all of our weird, nosy neighbors came outside and asked, “What happened to her???” Then my Dad screamed, “SHE JUST FELL OFF THE TOILET.”
When we got to the hospital, they wheeled me into a room and I could hear the hot British paramedic outside the room flirting with the nurses at the nurses’ station. They asked, “What happened to her?” To which the paramedic responded, “Oh, she just fell of the commode in the loo.” Then they all went, “HAHAHAHAHA.”
The rest of the hospital stay was pretty uninteresting. My memories are just clouded with different hospital personnel asking what was wrong with me and then the doctor or nurse telling them my tragic story of how I fell off the toilet and they would all giggle.
I ended up having a severely bruised jaw; I almost broke it, but luckily that dirty Aeropostale sweater saved my last fall and thus my jaw. I also had whiplash from when my head turned around while I was pulling up my sweats.
As a result, I had to wear a neck brace for two weeks. I think that was worse than the actual fall! I was literally like that girl in "Mean Girls" with the neck brace who they made fun of. Luckily for me, I was doped up on a LOT of pain medication which helped ease my embarrassment.
When I finally went back to school, all my friends kept asking what happened to me. I didn’t want to tell them I fell off the toilet -- that was too embarrassing -- so I came up with this story where I slipped when I was in the shower and fell. It worked on a few people, but one of my especially inquisitive friends asked, “So when the paramedics came, did they see you naked??”
Now, today if a hot British paramedic saw me naked I would be excited, but back then my sweet little self was MORTIFIED. I ended up coming clean and telling them the real story, then I spent the next two weeks hiding in the bathroom as much as possible -- how ironic!
After I healed up, I lived my life relatively embarrassment free, until a couple of years later. I was having dinner outside at the Cheesecake Factory with some friends when the paramedics rolled up (apparently someone had choked on a piece of cheesecake). Lo and behold, out walked the British paramedic that saved my life! I yelled, “HEY, I’M THE GIRL THAT FELL OFF THE TOILET!” He looked at me a second, laughed with a smile, and then hurried off to save the cheesecake choker.