what's cooking?

Ow!


Since I'm writing this after not one but two falls-forgive my rather concussed train of thought.

It was Sunday.  The day had been typically heat-breakingly hot.  We hit 117 at 4 p.m..  I took Lucky out back to potty.  I had the most stupid idea EVER!  I had done all my PT exercises-except the ones practicing on balance.

I was standing there waiting for my 5 pound wonder to find her "perfect" spot and decided to practice my exercise.  I have no idea why-it was truly the most asinine choice I've made in a very, very long while. 

Inside I stand between two kitchen chairs, so that if I can't stop the inevitable I can at least grab a back and plop down.  For some reason I decided to consider the stucco post of the overhang patio as my "chair back". 

Before I knew it, I missed the darned post and wound up hitting the stucco with the back of my forearm on the left side.

Not being one to use curse words-I was doing a pretty excellent job.  I also twisted my left ankle as I went from patio to rocks.  I kept muttering, "don't be broken!"  After all, a person with severe osteoporosis should pray for those types of things.

It puffed up, it was bleeding and stinging.  My arm looked like it went through the proverbial meat grinder.

I managed to get Lucky in, rinsed it under rather warm water (no, the intent was cool water but remember that we live on the face of the sun), gently put a couple of paper towels on it and grabbed my post-surgical hand ice pack. 

About 20 minutes later I managed to put the ice back in the freezer, somehow open my bottle of Naprosyn and tramadol, eat a couple of crackers and take full doses.  Not it was almost 5 p.m.

Next, I somehow texted Steve and told him I fell and was he on the way?

He asked why I did that?  Sigh.  Aren't I allowed to make stupid decisions like everyone else?

When he got home, he found me sitting without electricity.  Yes, one of our fun outages was happening.  But he came home and parked the car when the "long" one took affect.  He grilled the entire dinner I had prepared.  Still no power.  Adam and Sam told us to come over.  Poor Pepper would be left behind in the heat and dark while we'd go with Lucky until power was restored.

Steve un-did the garage, pulled out the car and told me to just SIT while he got the dog. 

That sounded easy enough, no?  NO.  Remember I took that tramadol.  I was a tad wobbly.  I honestly don't remember what or how I did it, but I missed the door handle twisted my right ankle and fell, again.

This time though it was really bad.  I hit the right side of my head on either the driveway or the rocks, sent my glasses flying (thank goodness they were okay), hit my bad shoulder (scraping it) and twisted my right knee bad enough that the rest of this week has been pretty ugly.

I sat up and the blood was gushing from a gash on the side of my eye.  My eye was turning purple.  I don't know how or why-but I got up, turned off the car and went in the house.

The rest of the night is a blur.  The kids kept saying I needed stitches.  I looked like I had been attacked and felt horrible.  Little Jackson kept looking at me, "grandma boo-boo"

Sleep didn't come that night as everything was throbbing.  Steve had bandaged me up to mummy-like proportions and made me sleep on a towel.  No sense possibly ruining new sheets.

Next morning I slowly got up.  My head hurt, my eye looked like I went overboard with the purple shadow, it was swollen and the gash dressing needed to be changed.  So did the one on my arm.

Then came the real "fun".  I saw spots,  the room started spinning and I said, "I'm going to throw up".
Dry heaves with head injuries SUCK!  Obviously along with the obvious physical hurting I had given myself a concussion.

This scared Steve enough that he called and told his manager what happened and that he was taking a personal day off. 


I had to cancel my PT for the week-no way was I driving or exercising. 

As of now (5 days later if you're counting)-1/2 of the wound on my left arm has finally scabbed over, the gash on my eye probably should've had a couple of stitches, I'm still looking like someone punched my eye and my head is throbbing.  But on the uptick-I haven't thrown up again and no more passing out.

This week has NOT been what I thought it would be-here's hoping next week will at least see me being able to go out in public without someone asking me if I need the local phone number for domestic violence shelters.