This is the story about me and my automatic garage door. At about 7pm (Tuesday 11/12/96) I had just finished my bike ride home from Sausalito to my house in lower Haight. I put the bike in the garage and closed the garage door so I could go to the back and work out on the weight machine for a bit (it had been a very frustrating day). When I finish up with the "weight release" and grabbed all my stuff to go up stairs, I open the garage door (electric swinging door that goes up and down). Then I punched the button again to close the door then duck under it (as I have a million times) and BAM! It hits me on the top of the head, but not like just a bonk which I have ever experienced before, I MEAN A F*@K!NG BOOONNNKKKKK!!! Within an instant a blanket of blood covers my head and glasses, gushing form the top in all directions. I couldn't really see anything, I reached up with my hand to feel that all of my head and hair is soaked, not with "thin" "watery" sweat; but with "Thick" "Warm" blood. By that time, there was streams of blood coming off my head onto the driveway. So I stumble up my driveway and up the front stoop to the front door of the two flats. I rang both my flat and the downstairs flat's door bell know full well that both my room mates were at the opera working. luckily my downstairs neighbor comes to the down and sees me. ( I found out later he is studying to me a paramedic). he instantly has 911 on the line and towel on my head with pressure on it, only after I realized that blood was squirting out the top my head and onto the door. I also remember this guy streaming in to my hear "Stay awake, Wiley , Pull it together!" which was the perfect thing to say to me because I truly wanted to pass out.

I had lost a pint of blood in 5 minutes, I was screaming, out of breath and I thought I was going to be eating oatmeal for the rest of my life. and not because of some major bike accident, but because I could get out of my garage door properly. So the ambulance shows up and they took me to S.F. general. I basically went into shock on the way over and was trying to ask questions like "when are we going get there" and "how big is the wound", or "can you tell me the cross street, so I can figure out how long it is going to take." All the paramedic would say is, "I'll tell you what I tell women when they are going though child birth, just pick a spot out on the wall and focus on it." and i thought, "Fuck That!, PANIC ! Sceammm....aaaa!".

We get to SF General and I am in a moaning state of agony with bouts of lucidness. The nurses instantly shooting questions at me, at which time I thought I would try to be funny by answering each question with more than a yes or now... "what's your name?"

Wiley Evans,.. .Wiley E. Coyote, superrr geeeenius." I said with a smile and then a moan.

"very nice mr. evans, when was you last tetanus shot?"

moan...

"Mister Evans? When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"

"I had a George Orwellian tetanus" I said looking for a laugh, "...1984"

"oh oo, thats funny, wiley... Wiley! have you lost consousness(sp) anytime this evening?!"

"Shiii... I wish! moan, moan..."

I got the tetanus shot and I was transferred to another stretcher.. but the biggest thoughts I had at that time was how big of a baby I was about this wound AND ... "I Don't want to turn into a circus geek!!!"

Then the paramedics started talking to me again because I probably looked like I was on the way OUT! saying things like, "So, Mr. Evans", at a volume that is only comfortable for deaf people, "Do you ride your bike a lot?" to which I would reply with a joke like: "How do you tell the difference between a thermometer for your mouth and a thermometer for your ass?" and before anyone could answer I would yell the punch line. "THE TASTE! OOooohh! FU*&CK, shit this hurts". and all the pain would come back at once. All the staff kept looking at me with this weird look, and then I heard

"Who wants to work on a very large and grotesque laceration who thinks he's a comedian?"

while the nurse with the tetanus shot came back and stabbed me while saying, "I don't think the jokes are working, you'll have to pull it together and use some of your charm."

Anyway they got me into a room pretty dam quick; it seemed like it only took 30 seconds while every other patients were sitting unattended. Then wham bam there are a ton of doctors and nurses and a cover over my eyes
a lamp over my head
and I hear them talking about how its the biggest laceration they have seen on a scalp, EVER!. pointing and slowly pulling back the huge "U" shaped flap. (which hurt!) and then they would yell to me, "Mr. Evans?! can you hear us", because I was starting to scream again, "ITS THE BIGGEST ONE WE'VE SEEN, EVER." (and I am thinking, this is SF General!).

Suddenly there was quick moment of silence... (what seemed to me was a short silence)

then I heard calm soft voice say "Brace yourself Mr. Evans"

SLAAAAAAAM! I was screaming at the top of my lungs and breaking one of the paramedics wrists that I had in one hand. They had started to wash out my wound by spraying asaline on it. I couldn't tell how loud I was screaming because of all the noise that the asaline made bouncing of the bone of my skull. Plus all of the doctors where either yelling at me to get me to calm down or get the nurse with the morphine in to the room quicker...Because I had NO PAIN KILLER YET! (The wound is a 10 inch u-shaped scalping on the top of my head.) Occasionally the doctors would try to calm me with a shot of ladicane here and there, but what actually was happening was the top of my head is open and they are squirting asailin directly at it I kept hearing through all the technical doctor speak the word,"Morphine", Then *Stick*, swuang-+*bing*...I loosened my grip on the bed rail and the paramedic and said "So?, how did you guys get into medicine?" I ask the doctors suavely. "What are you guys doing after the surgery?... Wanna go get a beer after this?"

I spent the next 2 and half hours in surgery, and ended up losing more than 2 pints of blood throughout the whole ordeal. I got 50 stitches, 10 shoots of ladicane to the head and 10 sweet milligrams of morphine. and a Taxi ride home. I lucked out with this hot shot intern who was in the process of applying for UCSF. He did such a beautiful job. I am not eating oatmeal. I am not a circus geek, but i did have to shave my head so I could put healing goo on it.