My initial idea was to get the surgery done and go home then. Not that I was scared to tell them but just didn't want to scare them. I only told my brother but he ended up telling my dad and brother-in-law who them came to pick me up.
On the way back, my dad remained pretty cool and we were joking about stuff too. He even related to me a story of how he got dragged some distance by a bus when he slipped trying to get in while it was moving. This was a long time ago, before he got married. I guess, the 4 of us in the car are the only people alive now who know this story.
My brother-in-law's reaction was, "You need to take your life more seriously. You need to become responsible now. Else get married."
My mother was worried (obviously) and kept saying, "Look what you have gotten yourself into this time." Yesterday, which is about 11 days after the accident, she told me, how, in my childhood, I hit a pillar in the parking space and got stitches - twice.
My sister found a way to relate the accident to why I should do my MBA. (I'm baffled.)
My nephew, though he doesn't understand the seriousness of what happened, asks me every day why I went fast and fell. And he is the only one who has been able to make me feel guilty, sheerly through his constant questioning.
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