So, I get this message from Mario saying he's in the hospital, and of course I can't go back to sleep. Instead, I did what you should probably never do - look online for reported accidents the night before. Two 20 something men had been hit by cars and one was hit by a street tram (alcohol/drugs almost certainly had to be involved in that one unless the guy was in a wheelchair that got stuck on the tracks or something). Great, now I was really panicked.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do except wait until Mario wrote me again to tell me where he was, what happened, etc.
Around 1pm Jenny checked her phone and saw that Mario had copied and pasted his messages to me in a Whatsapp group with our best friends. She called me instantly and we tried to piece together what happened.
After she and I said goodbye at 4 am, she walked back to the Ubahn station -- but instead of going home, she decided to check Alte Kantine to see if the boys were there. Which, as I mentioned before, we were sure they would be. I wasn't surprised to hear that she'd gone there, but I was surprised that she didn't ask me if I'd like to go. She'd probably made up her mind on the way to U Eberswalder, but still... It's one of those "If only she had told me she was going, then maybe all of this wouldn't have happened" hindsight things.
So, Jenny is standing outside the club and Mario comes out. He was quite drunk and Jenny asked if he needed help getting to the subway station. He said "No, I've got it." So Jenny went inside the club and met up with Olli.
At this point that's all we knew.
I was fielding frantic messages from Mario's cousin Andrea when the phone rang about an hour after my call with Jenny. Mario had called her, explaining everything, and asked her to pass me important information in English. He wanted to be as clear as possible, and using Jenny as a go-between was the best way.
He still didn't know where he was, but he was feeling better after the nap and some pain medicine. He had a broken nose, an 8cm long gash from his forehead into his scalp, and various bruises and scrapes everywhere. He'd write me when he knew which hospital he was in.
A short while later he wrote the name of the hospital and asked me to bring some clothes, a book, etc. I scrambled to get everything together, did a quick google map search for the place, and set off. I get to the hospital about 20 minutes later and ask the information desk where Mario is .... and the man tells me that he's in a different branch of the hospital in Prenzlauer Berg, not in Friedrichshain. Great. The nice man gave me vague directions on where to go and I set off.
Everything that could have gone wrong did. In my sleep-deprived, frantic state I went in absolutely the wrong direction every single time I had to get on a tram or walk anywhere. But eventually I made it to the hospital just as visiting hours were almost over, and after dealing with a (very unhelpful) information desk worker, and asking nurses on his floor, I found his room.
It was surprisingly nice - the hospital had a private room that was free, so they stuck him in there. It was like a hotel room for a 90-year-old - adjustable bed, raised toilet seat with handles, but surprisingly roomy. And all that for 10 euro per day. Go socialist health care systems!
Mario wasn't, and still isn't, sure of what happened. The last thing he remembers he was heading to the UBahn station, and then two men were standing over him and calling an ambulance. He was apparently lying on the ground covered in blood for at least an hour, but had all of his valuables on him. So either people saw him and gave him a wide berth, or no one came by.
He passed out again and woke up briefly in the ambulance, and then came to again as the doctor was working on him. He'd have to stay the weekend for observation, per the norm for head injuries, but was otherwise feeling OK. Just extremely exhausted and sore.
So, that was my weekend. The following day several of his friends and his parents visited him as well. His parents were just like, "Ach, Mario, man man man." Translation: We are happy that you are alive and recovering but disappointed that you get yourself into these situations, but because you are hurt we can't be mad at you.
The scar from the gash will be there forever, although it has lightened quite considerably since then. To this day we still don't know what happened. Theories include:
- a break dance battle (not serious)
- attack from Lord Voldemort (also not serious but plausible for Potter fans)
- hit by a car
- a fight involving a bottle
- a fall down stairs
I personally think it was either a fight or a car. Mario was bruised heavily on one side of his entire body and his right fist was swollen and sore. I wouldn't be surprised if Mario started joking with someone, went too far, and found himself surrounded by intoxicated and aggressive men. A hit to the head with a bottle, they think "Oh shit look at all of that blood, we killed him," and run off, not thinking to check his pockets.
Or a car, whose driver who was possibly drunk himself, speeding around a corner and not looking for a pedestrian. Bam, hits Mario, checks to see if anyone saw, then speeds off.
Or of course, Lord Voldemort was lying in wait to cast his next Killing Curse and my love for Mario saved him.
No comments:
Post a Comment