Friday, December 30, 2011

If I Fell...

Folks consistently ask me why I awaken at 5:30 am, when I don't have to leave the house to take Luke to school until 8:10 am, after which I get ready for work, which starts at 9:30am. My answer is always the same: I enjoy my "me" time in the morning. That's when I get up, have my copious amount of green tea, usually write my blog (if I don't fall asleep at the computer writing it the night before, once falling out of the chair asleep in the office), smoke my cigarettes and check my Facebook and Twitter, reading articles, responding to emails, et al. In peace. Without the watchful eyes of my family, whom I let slumber until I wake up Luke at 7:15am. I go to bed at a reasonable hour, so I feel that I'm getting enough sleep.

Yesterday morning, however, I woke the whole house up at 5:30am, thunderously. Went into the office to unplug my laptop, grab that, my mouse and pad and my cell phone to head downstairs to write and make the tea. I had the light on the office gathering those items together, turned the light off, and went into the hallway, looking for the hall light on the wall. It was very dark and my eyes were not accustomed to the darkness, having had the office light on.

Sliding my right hand around the wall looking for the light switch, my left hand full of my electronics, I slipped and fell down the entire flight of stairs onto the landing between staircases. Hardwood floors. Clutching my laptop for dear life, it didn't get busted. My mouse flew down the stairs, as did my cell phone, each falling apart. My ma says, in hindsight, that it was a blood-curdling boom as I fell down the stairs. She thought at first I'd fallen out of bed, but she said the sound was much louder than that. Turning the hall light on finally, she saw me lying on the landing, in shock.

Luke rushed out of his room and down the stairs to put the phone and mouse back together. My mom was trying to make sure I hadn't broken anything (on my body). All I knew was that my knees and my back were killing me. I started crying from the pain (and I'm no pain wimp) and the trauma. Ma started crying.

Ma and Luke went back to bed shortly thereafter and I pressed on with my morning. Each had a difficult time getting back to sleep, which isn't really my fault but I contributed to it (turned out Luke slept until after noon yesterday while I was at work).

I felt better being up and around at work yesterday, as opposed to sitting and getting stiff. The 4 Advil I took in the morning helped. I was experiencing severe dizziness, which made me wonder if I'd hit my head, but I don't think I did. One of my doc bosses said it was from the shock and trauma of falling. Took some anti-vertigo medication and that helped as well. I asked TOC if I should bother Stosh (my PCP) about the fall and he said no, that tailbone "bruises" take up to 2 weeks to heal and that I probably didn't need an X-ray or an MRI. But I wonder about the MRI, given I have a herniated L5/S1 in my back already. (UPDATE: Just called Stosh. I was told that even if I did fracture my tailbone, there's nothing they do about it, it just takes a long time to essentially the same thing TOC said.) (UPDATE 2: Stosh called back. He thinks, based on the spasms and pain, that it's fractured and will x-ray next week to confirm location and severity, and reiterated that it'll take a long time to heal...he wants me to alternate heat/ice and ibuprofen/Norco.)

But I had a rough night, to say the least. My back would spasm and wake me up, which curled me into a ball every time it happened, and it was hard to straighten out again, to the point where I just got up (I planned to sleep in this morning). It spasms when I cough, blow my nose, or anything. Took 2 nerve blockers and 2 pain pills this morning to offset the onslaught of pain. Propped the heating pad on my tailbone, which feels good.

I think I need the services of my rocking chiropractor, Randy. Acupuncture, anyone?

It didn't help that yesterday at work, I had a hypoglycemic attack and had to punch out for an hour, because my supervisor and co-workers thought I was slurring my speech too much. I didn't feel *that* out of it, and was working hard when I got the order to punch out and take a break. Ate my lunch in the car (bruschetta without the bread--just the tomato mixture) and an apple--my ma called to check on my injuries-and said I wasn't slurring my speech at all. In any event, I dozed off for a little while and went back into work at 3pm, my back stiff from sitting in the car.

So what was the much anticipated Christmas gift from my Tatus? A book. Books, yay! A book by Greil Marcus, one of my favorite rock critics? Yay! A book about The Doors? Let's just say I've never been a fan. So it'll be an interesting perspective with which to read the book, not liking their music at all and thinking they're one of the most insipid bands of the 60's. They're one of those groups whose songs you know all by heart, but you just can't really tolerate. So much emphasis was put on Morrison and his physical beauty and heavy lifestyle, without regard to what was most important, the music. Tatus meant well and I'm sure he thought the book would be perfect for me. I guess I never voiced my disdain for The Doors out loud to him, but again, I'll read the book as a music critic and not as a fan. The book wasn't exactly what I was expecting, as he said earlier that he got me something "everyone else would hate but that I'd love because I'm such a non-conformist." I don't know what I was expecting. But a lot of conformists like The Doors, you know, stereotypical 60's band fans. And he didn't even wrap it, or write something meaningful in the book. He just sort of handed it to me in the office, and handed my co-worker 2 books from which to choose, and called that our Christmas gift exchange. It was nice of him to think of me in the first place, and I'm always grateful to receive a gift, but I didn't feel special, I just felt like one of the crowd of many at work. It's fair to say I guess I was a little bummed out, after all the hoop-dee-doo and given that he and I have a special relationship. He's capable of great feats of love and affection. Other times, he can be kind of a boob.

I worked hard on his gift, figuring out what would be appropriate but would be unique. The guy's got 1000 ties, but he doesn't have any featuring the artwork of John Lennon. He did really like the John Lennon artwork tie I gave him, and I think, though colorblind, he could tell the tie was mostly red, as well as the compilation of 3 CD's worth of Queen's greatest hits, and I told him to read the sappy card I gave him later, on his own. I don't know if he read it or not, but I warned him on the envelope that the card rhymed. I got a hug out of the whole thing.

On his way out of the office, I showed him what my best male friend got me for Christmas, a gift I'm still flabbergasted about, as I showed all the girls in the office on Wednesday.

My supervisor saw the gift and insisted I show every female in the office, and I had to tell everyone how we're just friends, and that he's married, but that his wife sort of knows I'm really, super special to him, and that she doesn't interfere in our relationship. They all looked at me like I was nuts.

Tatus asked me what my best male friend got his wife for Christmas, and I said I didn't know nor did I frankly care. Tatus said it must have been a very good year for my best male friend to afford such an extravagant Christmas present. He looked at the gift carefully, and God knows what was going through his head. He didn't say much other than to once again voice feeling sorry for me about the weekend my friend and I spent together this summer being such a horrible experience, when the truth is, we had a fabulous time together, even given the uber-expensive clusterfuck part of the weekend turned into. I can't figure out why he keeps bringing up the weekend we spent together, other than to chalk it up to a little bit of jealousy, which is totally unnecessary. So I don't know what to make of all that.

I love this video of the Beatles' "If I Fell." Especially Ringo's insistence that the crew member not touch his drums. I'm the same way...

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