The first hits left no apparent health sequel on me …

Hits to my Head.

… but, the last one left me disabled …

All throughout my life, I received four serious hits to my head, which, although I didn’t pass out as a result of them or presented apparent sequels of any kind as a result of any of them (save, of course, the last one), they were strong enough, so I was probably lucky, as they could have affected me negatively, or put an early end to my life, but, fortunately, they didn’t.

The first time I got a hit in my head, I was about 10 or 11 years old, and I got into a “practice” fight with Froilan, a street boy some two years older than me.

In a second opportunity a few months later, I was playing on my own at the entrance of the school I attended, Grupo Escolar “Francisco Pimentel”, in Caracas, Venezuela.

The school was located just in front of the house I lived in, on the opposite side of the road, and once the school’s big, metallic door with arabesque, was closed at lunchtime, an ample, square space remained, with clean and polished floor, like the rest of the school’s main lobbying area, offering a sense of closeness irresistible to me at that age, so I used to play there on my own quite often.

So, there I was that afternoon, concentrated in my game, whatever it was, when I noticed something has hit my right temple. Although I did not feel any pain, I touched my head with my left hand on the location of the hit, and I noticed I was bleeding, as the fingers of my hand were smeared with blood.

But, a rapid look around proved to me that no one was in the vicinity, and no vehicle was circulating in the road in front of the school entrance, where I was. I could not find anything on the polished floor either.

So, what has hit me?. To this date, I don’t know.

I cured my head with mercurochrome, but the mystery remained.

Was my right temple grazed by a stray bullet?

Then, years later, I would receive a violent third hit into my forehead, playing mini-soccer at the Centro Asturiano, a social club for Spaniards, which I was a member of, in Caracas, Venezuela.

Finally, already a sexagenary, I ran out of luck, and in 2011, I suffered a very simple car accident (very simple, as the car traveled at less than 40 mph, and no one else, no other car was involved in the accident) but which, as I said, almost cost me my life.

Yes, in fact, as a result of the car’s accident, I became hemiplegic of the right side of my body, as after being asleep, my body propelled forward of my copilot seat, and hit the car’s windscreen with my head, as the car’s front airbag did not open, being confined ever since then to a wheelchair (further details in an earlier story: “The accident, my disability, and the hospitals in Panama and Miami”, written on 06/29/2019, here on

In effect, although as I said, the first hits to my head didn’t leave any apparent sequel, they could have caused permanent grave damage. But, the fourth, the car accident, left me disabled, so I had to face yet another life.

You see, during my childhood, we lived for a while in a pension in which my parents have rented a room.

Our room had a high door of two halves, which in its highest part, had a couple of small windows through which I always escaped, when my mother closed the door from the outside with a lock, to go to work.

Often, I escaped simply to wander around or to play with my street friends. One of them was Froilan, a boy at least two years older than me, who always was around, but of whom I didn’t know anything else.

One afternoon, Froilan and I, a bit bored, entered into a “practice” fight, of which I resulted negatively affected, as at one point, Froilan had me with my back on the pavement, and taken me by the legs, he lifted me and then let me fall again over the pavement, against which I hit hard the back of my head, with a loud, hollow noise.

Immediately, the “practice” fight was over with, while I, watery-eyed, recovered myself from the hit to my head.

As I have indicated before, potentially very dangerous as it was, save for a bruised ego, the episode had no visible consequences on me or health sequels of any kind.

In another opportunity years later, I was playing in a practice game of indoor soccer at the Centro Asturiano, with a group of friends. We had formed a team to compete in a local championship, organized by the club, and to be played at the indoor soccer court of the club itself.

Although we all had played both, soccer and indoor soccer before, most of us had not played either of the games for months — or any other sport, for that matter--, or as in my case, for several years (hence, the practice).

At one time into the practice game, I was running with the ball on my right side of the court, and kicked the ball forward, to immediately go after it at full speed, quite conscious of the concrete wall, which stood in front of me, just behind the goal-keeping area of the opposing team. I was expecting that my strong running after the ball, was going to be stopped by my right leg, which I’d be lifting and placing the plant of my right foot against the wall, a maneuver which I’d done successfully before, on several occasions.

But my physical form was not the same now. As my right leg wasn’t quick enough, I hit the wall strongly with my forehead and fell on my back on the ground floor. Simply, my brain didn’t take into account the different physical form I had now.

Although the hit was very spectacular, with a loud hollow sound and everything, which caused my friends, who were watching the game, to stand up and surround me quite preoccupied, at the court, I didn’t pass out and, apparently, the shock did not have any sequels. At the time, I did not experience even dizziness, or had any other health consequences, except of course for a bruised ego, and a bitter reminder that I wasn’t 17 years-old anymore, nor had the physical form I used to have back then.

As I describe with detail the car accident (and posterior hospitalization), which caused my current disability in another story written here in, I repeat, I’m not including it here.

Please, read that story for details of the final hit to my head, which almost took my life, as I wasn’t wearing a seat-belt and the frontal airbag of the car didn’t open, as I said.

You see, I always thought I had some sort of Guardian Angel that looked after me … until the car accident, that is ...

I’m wondering now and revising my life, without success until now, in search of wrongdoing causes which might have prompted the Angel to abandon me, (or is it just a remnant, deeply buried into my mind, of Catholic education?)



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Eugenio Magdalena

Eugenio is a disabled Economist (UCAB, Caracas), cursed a post-graduate Diploma in Marketing (Strathclyde University, Scotland, UK), and an MBA (England, UK).