Yesterday (Saturday) started like pretty much every other day. I woke up, sat up (thought about coffee) and ended up with my tablet in my lap, checking sales and emails and social media like the good little author that I am.
Pushed this piece of coral, which is about the size of a volleyball and weighs roughly eight pounds, off the window sill above our bed and…
Onto my head. See, she likes to lay on the window above our bed like this (her head is right where the coral used to be):
After the first moments of blinding pain subsided enough for me to realize what had happened, I was then hit by waves of dizziness and nausea. A few deep breaths and I felt the top of my head. My hand came away bloody. I’m not good with blood. Yes, I know I write vampires and urban fantasy and things that go bump in the night, but blood makes me faint. We all have our burdens.
I somehow got my husband’s attention (maybe by waving my bloody hand at him?) – he was outside with the rest of the cats, none of whom have tried to kill us up to this point – and we determined a trip to the ER was in order.
Somehow I got dressed and a few minutes later we were in the ER. Apparently, Saturday morning is the best time to get hit on the head by a giant lump of souvenir coral because there was no one else in the waiting room. For once in my life, my timing was on point.
They took us back and after a field sobriety test (or something like it) to determine how dizzy I was, the doctor decided that while I was mildly concussed (fun word concussed, and not one you get to use that often) I could go without the cat scan (there’s a joke in there somewhere about how this was caused by a cat, but my head hurts too much to come up with it) but that I should definitely get a tetanus shot and that the inch and a half gash in my scalp should be closed up.
For fear of passing out again, I did not watch the tetanus shot. (Yes, I also have a thing with needles. Shut up.) It hurt like a mother. In fact, this morning my arm feels like I was punched by a roving gorilla. Why roving? Well, it’s not like there’s one that hangs out around here.
Then the doc anesthetized my head. More needles. IN MY HEAD. After that he dabbed on some more numbing stuff and told me, “This is going to sting.” And it did. Like a poultice of bees. FUN. Once that was over, he probed a bit to make sure my skull wasn’t cracked (Awesome. Did not know that was a possibility.) Thankfully, it wasn’t, but in the course of doing all that poking, my headed started to bleed again. Like, a lot. To the point that I felt like the star of a local production of Carrie where the titular high school character is played by a middle-aged (but holding up well) author. Seriously. You should see my t-shirt. You would have thought I’d been hit in the head by something really big and really heavy. Wait…
The doctor then got his surgical stapler out and went to town. Five staples. Five. Despite the liberal application of numbing agents, I still felt them. And if that’s what getting pierced feels like, there’s no way you’ll ever see me with anything more than my earrings. Yowch. I’ll spare you the picture of those staples, but I did make my husband document the event.
After that, the top of my head was throbbing like a teenage girl’s heart at the sight of One Direction. I made my husband take me to a drive thru for a chocolate shake on the way home and pretty much spent the rest of the day in bed. Feeling much better now, in case you were wondering. Sore, but decent. And no, Lily didn’t mean it.
How was your Saturday?