posted on Oct, 26 2005 @ 12:29 PM
My oldest memory is also one of my strangest ones and no one in my family till this day can make any sense of it. I wandered off down the stairs into
our backyard and cracked my head open on the cement stairs. Tiny scar to prove it.
I remember the sound of the ambulance, the blood, feeling scared, I remember my parents arguing loudly about whose fault it was and my dad riding with
me to the hospital in the ambulance. I remember the doctors and how kind and reassuring they were. Then I remember them putting the little mask thingy
over my mouth and nose to put me out and telling me to count backward from 10, which I did. I vividly remember looking at the hospital ceiling and the
bright lights hurting my eyes and having a nurse hold my hand. I remember the very weird feeling as the drugs kicked in and I drifted off. I've hated
hospitals and their associated smells ever since.
I don't remember anything after that till until I was about 4.
Thing is, my mother insists it never happened - well the accident did, including my dad accompanying me, but I had that very day, just turned one - it
was my birthday and no one was watching me as I learned to properly walk/run that very same afternoon. Which also means I couldn't have counted
backward from 10. But I remember it. Everytime I try to talk to my mother about this she freaks out.
[edit on 26-10-2005 by nikelbee]