The first injury I ever got in college was a concussion. And before you think I fell down a flight of stairs or passed out in the middle of something, or something really dramatic, sadly, it wasn’t. It was a bit dumber than that. I was doing my homework on my bed, and at the time I had birds. And if you own or know birds, you know they love chaos. They like to fly in high places and to sing and screech. My bird would do those things. They loved flying and being at the highest place in the room. They loved to scream and screech as loud as they could. Even worse, at such heights, they began to find their love for paint. 

I mean, the scream I can take, fine, alright. The paint, though, absolutely not! So I quickly got up and chased them down for eating the stuff, like I always did. But obviously, they have wings, and when scared, they would fly away. So they flew. 

I dropped what I had used to scare them, and I bent down super quickly to pick it up so I could continue chasing them.

BAM! I slammed my head, full force, into the corner of the metal radiator. My vision went black for a moment. I dropped to the floor and sat there in shock, but soon after, tears began to form. It wasn’t loud crying, just quiet sobs into the palms of my hands. My head was throbbing so badly. 

At that point, my sibling thought I was laughing, except I wasn’t. I eventually stood up with tears in my eyes, holding my head. Feeling and seeing the bump forming. It was so bad. 

When my parents got home, I told them what had happened. They wanted to take me to the hospital or an urgent care to make sure I didn’t concuss my head. I declined because I don’t think I did that much damage to myself

I had lots of homework that night, especially three discussion posts due. So instead of resting like a person who just concussed themselves, I stayed up all night. Who knew what was going to happen if I slept that night? So I sat up all night on my bed doing my homework. All night. Then continued to go to school the next day. When I did come home, I just knocked out. But the bump and the pain lasted a while. And it was my first concussion, yet somehow not my last. 

About a year later, this time on the kitchen counter. Don’t ask, I do not have proof, just my word and the pain. It wasn’t as big a pain as the first one, but it was still something. But that time, my mom was more serious, telling me I had to be careful. And again, she isn’t wrong; she has a point. 

Because at that point, maybe I started collecting my concussions like infinity stones.