I was getting ready to go to a meeting Thursday morning when I realized I’d forgotten an important item. Rather than going back upstairs to retrieve it, I asked The Squire to drop it off the balcony for me. We weren’t quite lined up, so I backed up a bit . . . and that was all I remember.
I do not remember The Squire calling 911, or the ambulance carting me off, or anything else until I woke up in the ER. When one of the nurses asked me if I knew where I was, I replied that I was in either one of two hospitals that are within 10 miles of home, but it turned out I’d been taken to a trauma center 15 miles away.
To cut to the chase, I’d fallen backwards and knocked myself out, hitting my head on the sidewalk in front of the building. The staff had taken pictures of the damage, and the back of my head resembled a package of ground beef. At first, the doctors had tried to stitch it all up, but that didn’t work, so they ended up taking me up to surgery at 9 or 10 at night. The work needed to be done in three stages: first they sewed up the muscle across the back of my head and then they stitched the fatty layer. Those were done with stitches that will dissolve. Finally, they had to insert a piece of something to replace a chunk of scalp I’d left back at the condo. I have to go back to the hospital to have those stitches removed. They stick out on the back of my head, which makes sleeping and combing my hair both difficult. I am still leaving bloody spots on towels and pillowcases in spite of wearing a pair of Depends as a nightcap.
As a matter of fact, this little “trip” was a lot more serious than the last time. First of all, I’ve learned that the ambulance left with sirens and lights. They NEVER do that. This is an over 65 community, and people are being taken out by ambulance all the time. The was one day when two people left within an hour of each other, and they left silently. Even when The Squire was taken to Upper Chesapeake with multiple problems there was no noise. I’m still dizzy when I change positions, especially getting into – or out – of bed, and I’m always exhausted. I’m sure this is God’s way of telling me to slow down and remember that I’m not 25 anymore.
Now, if I can just behave myself, all will be well.
thisendoftheswamp 