I took a supremely nasty fall on Saturday. Silly me, I heard a crash (the only kind of hearing I have—concussive shit) and immediately worried that maybe Ten had fallen. Why? He didn’t answer me when I called his name.
Would I hear his answer? No. He’d need to appear before me for me to ‘hear’ him. Remembering this (16 years and I’m still not used to being deaf) I got my walker and started toward the kitchen. I missed a tiny bump and came crashing down into the fridge face first. Yep, I’m swollen to hell and back, bruised and all road rashy. I’m decidedly unpretty at the mo.
Naturally, given that I’m such a worrywart, my first concern was that I’d just caused the meningioma sitting in my frontal lobe to blow up like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade blimp.
Ten (who had been outside and hadn’t heard me call), Jen and Oni (who heard my drop) assured me that my crash site was just a flesh wound. Of fucking course this set me off into the Monty Python Black Knight bit.
Yeah, my mind is kind of all over the place even in hard times. Jen agreed to get me an ‘I’m not dead yet’ button before Ten and Oni lifted me off the floor.
Was it back to the ER? No. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face another 17-24 hour stay with, quite likely, a flawed diagnosis. Nope. Plus, with my raging claustrophobia, I just could NOT do another MRI. Given that la famiglia felt the fall and wound were mere flesh wounds, they agreed with my decision to stay home.
Naturally I was intensely watched for concussion signs and other ‘get her to MGH NOW’ shit. Those signs have yet to appear.
Meanwhile I feel like a total doofus. In order to keep this from happening again we’ve made a few rules:
- Before getting up and falling I’m to text Ten and ask him where he is
- If there’s no answer, I’m to text Jen and Oni for help
- Lastly, Ten should tell me when he leaves the house. This way, if I hear a big bang, I won’t worry that he’s laying dead on the kitchen floor.
Did I mention that I’m a worrier?