Meaningful Objects

When I moved to Denmark just over a year ago, I realised there were very few valuable inanimate objects (lets call them 'things') in my life. Or rather, very few that really really mattered to me. I came over with a couple of bags, and quickly discovered that the only things of monetary value that I really needed in my life, and which I would be really annoyed with if I didn't have, was my laptop. All $250 worth of it. And I'd only really be annoyed if I lost stuff that I hadn't yet gotten around to backing up - so no big deal. The only other things of value I had were locked up in Australia - there the big, insured things, which really don't matter if they disappear (like a house - insurance will reimburse), but maybe there were some photos and my coin collection stashed away. Otherwise, nothing.

Shortly I realised that apart from my laptop, I had 2 other things of value with me that I cared about - a watch my dad had given me, and a gold chain I wore daily that I received from my grandparents.

After my second trip to the Hittegods - Copenhagen's Lost & Found, I realised my gold chain was gone forever. It's quite sad when there are only a couple of 'things' you really care about, and then you lose one of them! Out of an accident which broke a tooth, bloodied a shirt, made me look like Fat Albert temporarily, has given me a[nother] permanent scar and 'bump' on my chin, destroyed a nice shirt, caused me great pain dealing with stitches, and made my gold chain disappear. The only thing I really care about is the gold chain.

I'm now trying to work out the lesson in all this.... There are very few irreplaceable things in life - one of them is memories.

The Amazing Human Body

T + 5 weeks

On the positive side, I am amazed at how quickly a a bunchy of atoms stitched together in the form of a human is able to repair itself so well when something goes wrong.

On the negative side, I am constantly astounded by the way it can fall apart so easily in the first place (both mentally and physically). It is for this reason, that certain objects, such as bicycle helmets, were invented.

As it so turns out, this story would not have been much different were said bicycle helmet on my head in the first place, but another story down the track might just be - hence its very procurement...

I'll let the pictures tell the story rather than words, it is that much more amusing.

2 days after - Fat Albert, here I come! Oh, and
now I notice bruising and grazing on my neck and chest

The day after - before the swelling started

T+10 days - I can't take the beard!

So I shave off what I can

3 weeks later - looking nothing worse than
someonewho has had a amateur plastic
surgeon work on him

So the moral of the story: just because you broke your wrist (twice) by falling on it, doesn't mean next time you fall you should land flat on your face in order to save your wrist! Whilst it does allow you to end up with a totally untouched wrist (despite the smashed watch), eating gravel is not fun!

But, as they say, when you fall off your bike, you have to get back on again. And so, after my visit to the ER I returned to pick up my bike and ride home (of course, my bike wasn't locked up so I just didn't want it to get stolen...)

Admittedly, the pain really wasn't that bad - but having stitches put in your upper lip after receiving what must have been saline water as an anaesthetic, is not pleasant. Nor, of course, is having them yanked out through scabs. Ouch!