Christmas came before Thanksgiving this year and it wasn’t what I’d ordered, and certainly not what I wanted.
I received a lovely hospital bracelet, a cat scan, a tetanus shot, some narcotics and staples in my head.
Santa, what were you thinking? The best part is, I’m receiving a Mississippi State football helmet to wear while I do my housework from now on. Phil Silva, the MSU equipment manager, promised. He said he would deliver it when he gets back from Little Rock.
On Friday, I launched my annual marathon house cleaning session which gets me through Christmas and straight through Easter. This year I got a little rambunctious and began cleaning at sun rise, moving furniture and hanging things that I’d been meaning to hang for ages.
In the process, I tripped over Lucky Dawg’s “child guard” (which keeps her from sleeping on the guest room bed). I fell headfirst into the corner of a door frame and felt a little stupid. When I reached up to rub my head, there was this red stuff running down my face.
What the heck….? Oh, Lord. Help me. I have fallen and I’m bleeding to death. I didn’t know what to do. Lucky and Rebel were running around thinking I had a new game to play… and so colorful!
I had my neighbor, Brenda’s phone number on my speed dial, and I called her. She and her husband David, a former football coach, came charging through the door within seconds. I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t even dressed or put on make-up.
David sat me on the toilet – that was the closest seat available – and examined the damage. He said he’d seen worse, but reminded me of that lady downhill skier who ran into a tree and said she felt fine, but died a few hours later. Oh great! I let them talk me into going to the emergency room.
I rode along with a paper towel on my head and tried to put sentences together. The nice emergency room nurse asked me if my vision was okay. I couldn’t see her nametag because I’d smashed my reading glasses during the fall.
Ooops. Vision blurred, must be brain damage. I pictured my brains leaking out of my cracked head. I held my breath as they ran me through a machine that radiated my head from a million different angles.
The results were encouraging. So they gave me a tetanus shot and discussed if they should shave my head before stapling my scalp back together.
“Wait! Thursday is Thanksgiving and I need my hair. Could we wait until next week?” I pleaded.
Nope, the doctor gave me a choice. I could get a shot to deaden the pain or endure the brief discomfort. He assured me the shot was much worse. He lied. I gripped the hospital and bed and sat horrified as I felt the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
“Krechrunct,” went the staple gun, and the skin on my entire head shifted a quarter inch toward heaven. My soul was close behind. Even my eyes were lifted.
Hey, this could be a good thing. A bonus face lift. When I got home I raced to the mirror and was horrified to find Phyllis Diller peering back at me.
That was 27 hours ago and I still haven’t combed my hair or put on make-up. I’m also afraid to smile or speak, lest those staples pull loose. I began to compute what this little foray would cost me. Guess I won’t be taking that cruise in January. But to put it all in perspective, I’m alive, and will be able to produce another substandard Thanksgiving dinner for my family. Isn’t life great!