Surfing is not for Sissies

One balmy Thursday morning I'm sitting at home writing out a shopping list (as one does when one is unemployed); Mike is surfing (as one does when one is unemployed). I hear his car pull in, steady steps on the gravel walkway, he appears in the doorway carrying the shopping. Looks a little pale, upon closer inspection actually, looks like he's been mauled by a dog - swollen face, blood pouring out one side of his mouth. Panic stations I'm thinking car accident, shark attack, altercation with barbed wire fence?

None of the above.

He'd come short on a particularly big, bad wave. In the ensuing wipe-out his surfboard catapulted out of the foam ball with all the force of a freight train, and smacked him in the face.

The corner of his mouth split open in two places by about a centimetre. The inside of his mouth resembled mince meat - a couple of healthy incisors and jagged molars had ground his cheek muscles to pulp.

With his face swelling before our very eyes, we rushed off to Casualty. The doctor took one look and shook his head. "This is a job for the plastic surgeon" he said, and backed slowly out the door. Dr Plastic-Fantastic arrived 45 mins later amidst a flurry of obsequious nurses, bowing and scraping, speaking in hushed whispers with wide, adoring eyes - this was obviously THE man.

I watched while he worked, injecting anaesthetic directly into the wound four times. You'd think this was the squeamish part. Not even close. The crazy man then took a pair of scissors and cut the remaining piece of flesh that was holding Mike's mouth together, as if it were fabric. I felt the room swim out of focus, all the blood draining out of my toes I thought it best to look at the floor and count the spots in front of my eyes. Collecting myself, I watched him do the rest. First he stitched the cheek muscles back together, then he worked on getting the mouth back in one piece - fascinating, so skilled, I'm calling this guy to darn my socks!

Armed with antibiotics and ointment, we paid the magnificent doctor his equally magnificent bill, and limped home.

It's been 10 days since, Mike is finally able to smile with both sides of his face and Dr Wonderful has earned his stripes because there is barely even a scar. Sho!!

Here are some delightful pics - unfortunately, we weren't too snap happy before we left for the hospital otherwise I would've had some real gruesome material. These were taken the day after.

You can see from these next two that the split goes about a centimetre into his mouth. You cannot even see where the flesh has been stitched together underneath the skin, this is only the outside.

Lopsided smile - cheek muscles are now fully functional and the smile goes both ways again.

I have a new-found respect for surfers. They are so hardcore.