Here's a little background on me:
By the time I was five, I had had stitches IN MY HEAD 3 different times. (I know some of your are thinking that this explains a lot, you're probably right). Two of the "incidents" were from what could be considered normal, little kid incidents. Once, I fell off a stool and the other time I bumped into a wall. (Those are normal, right?) The third time, well that was the beginning of the end for me. Long story short, a swing set fell on my head. Yep, weird things happen to me.
A short list of things that have happened since then:
Stitches in my knee (kind of normal), surgery to remove cysts on my tailbone (not at all normal),and too many sprained ankles to count (most happened during track, one happened on a walk to my car...). This summer, I stepped on a pitchfork while I was mowing the lawn and it fractured my second toe and my entire foot blew up to the size of a watermelon. That doesn't happen to just anyone. And I thought, at the time, that it was the weirdest injury I could come up with. Ha! Little did I know, the best (worst?) was yet to come.
Fast forward to the weekend before last. Robbie and I were on a double date with some friends of his from work. We'd gone shooting (don't ask), we'd had dinner, and we were on our way back to the car when I challenged him to a foot race. We saw an empty parking lot, and off we went. That's about all I know...I vaguely remember that we drifted toward each other but after that, all I know is that I was flat on my back and I couldn't talk, or move. I was pretty sure I was a vegetable. Yep. My talent at it's best. Somehow, while I was running forward, I had fallen and hit the BACK of my head. I knocked my self out, sustained a concussion and put a pretty decent gash in the back of my head. Not to mention the road rash and cut on my backside. Awesome.
By the time I realized I wasn't paralyzed, I started freaking out about the blood. I hate blood. (And eyeballs and snakes but they weren't really issues at that point). So off we headed to hospital. At 10 pm. On a Saturday. On Hill Top. Once there, I got the privilege of spending 2 and a half hours with Tacoma's finest citizens. That is an experience I don't need to repeat. Once I finally was moved to my room (and by room I mean chair in the very back hallway of the ER) I got to listen to the guy in behind me complain how "they charge you for everything at this place...even the cups you use!" (Not sure who he expected to pay for his cups?) and the girl in front of me who was sure that "Obama's kids would never have to wait this long" and that she definitely wasn't pregnant...."unless it was immaculate consumption". I can't make this up, people!!!
Once the doctor finally saw me (after 45 minutes with my new friends in the hallway) and decided that I needed to have my head scanned and stitched up (oh, and the cut on my cheek-the other cheek- super glued) it was only a short 2 hours before was on my way home with my head wrapped up like a mummy. Double awesome.
At that point, I figured I might have a headache the next day and I knew I wouldn't be able to work on Monday... because I couldn't wash my blood crusted hair until Monday night. Little did I know that 12 days later, I would still be off work and on the couch. I sleep, I watch Bravo, and that is about it. Yesterday, I slept for 20 out of 24 hours. On Monday, as I was headed to the doctor to get my stitches out and my brain checked, I followed this bus for miles:
Talk about rubbing in in. Also, as it turns out, March is Brain Injury Awareness month. Do I know how to celebrate, or what?
But guess what?!? Today I feel better than I have in weeks! I still spent most of my day on the couch (after a trip to Target, the happiest place on Earth) but I didn't sleep all day! And I didn't cry! And I put the laundry in the dryer all by myself!!! It is amazing how low your standards get after a week and a half of doing nothing. But yay for feeling better!
So now I have vowed to myself not to laugh when Abby trips over nothing. Instead, I will say a little prayer that she escapes the curse of one-of-a-kind injuries that seems to follow me.
And after all of this, I am confident that we made the right decision to stop with two children. They say once you have twins you have a 25 percent chance of having them again and that is obviously the kind of thing that would happen to me. Except I'd get three or four next time. Because that's how I roll.
#winning
so sorry to hear! glad you are on the mend!
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