This is a story of David versus Goliath. It was kind of embarrassing. And no, I wasn’t under the influence of alcohol or any medication. It was just instinct, reflex. The same reflex that caused me to lose balance and at the same time, saved me from a concussion. It could have been worse.
Our home is clean. My wife and I have spent a lot of effort to keep our place hygienic. When one late evening while we were watching Mystic Pop-up Bar on Netflix with our balcony doors wide opened, a gigantic cockroach flew into our home!
Unlike other flying insects that occasionally drawn to the interior lighting and visit our home at night, I have no idea what draws a cockroach’s attention. For other insects, all we have to do is to turn off all the light inside and leave the balcony light on. They would leave shortly, chasing the next light source.
Cockroaches don’t seem to do that. As one that flew from one side of the living room to another side refused to leave, I have attempted to brush it out of our home using a duster with a very long handle (I clean ceiling beams with that). Instead of flying out, it flew towards me!
I have zero intention to kill a cockroach inside our home for good reasons. First, we didn’t have an insecticide (as we haven’t sighted a cockroach for a very long time, but now we have bought one). Second, it is messy to kill one. Third, I don’t feel like killing anything so long as it peacefully exits our home.
But no, it flew towards me! That contradicts everything I thought I knew about cockroaches – that the primal DNA has dictated them to move to the opposite direction of the imminent threat.
Looking back, I could have stayed still. Let it smashed onto my body, crawled around me perhaps. But no, I retreated. One step backward at a time, till I …
… tripped over the sofa. And at that very instance, I lost my balance, head down to the floor. The very instinct that caused me to lose balance now kicked in to save me. As I fell, I was thinking, if I was to fall on my back, it would be a pretty heavy hit on my head. Perhaps, concussion.
So, at the split second, I managed to turn my body and attempted to land on my hands and avoid the head injury.
But alas. I have grown weight due to the Covid-19 lock-down. I have become heavier. Gravity is a bitch. And I fell faster than I had anticipated thanks to my heavier body. What this means is that I have landed hard on my right shoulder. My head smashed onto the ground. My wrist was twisted.
As I got up, instinctively covered my face, I smelled iron. I smelled of blood. There was blood on my face, blood on my hands, blood on my shirt, and blood on the floor. My pair of glasses laid flat onto the floor, twisted, not wearable.
There was a sharp pain, especially on my face. I managed to open my eyes. At least, my eyes are okay. I then went to the mirror in the living room. There were two cuts on my right brow. One cut more severe than another. Blood streaming from my wound. From my past experience, I needed to lie down and press against the wound in order to slow down the bleeding.
I did not know if I required to be stitched up. But I must say, my first reaction was: man, I looked mean. I looked like a gangster, a bad boy. That’s nice. That was one cool look. I am a tough guy!
My wife dressed the wound. I have got a swollen cheek, a sore shoulder, and wrist. And I didn’t sleep well (nor did my wife as she was worried). Other than that, I am fine. It could have been worse. Much worse.