Fight Girl

Monday Morning

Just kidding. 

The only fight I had was with the sidewalk in front of the mailboxes.  I noticed I was a touch dizzy and the next thing I noticed was my face shredding on the concrete.  The women who a minute before were chatting by the lilac bushes put a sweatshirt under my head and called 911, telling me not to cry and everything would be all right. I had my cell phone in pocket, and they called R&B who were on their way to take me out to dinner.  Paramedics pulled the rings off my rapidly swelling finger, replaced the sweatshirt with a quickie bandage to staunch the bleeding, and strapped me on a neck board.



Saturday Night

The Stonebridge assistant manager put Sadie in my apartment until Keith and Mary took custody of her.  Abi and Genea, as is our family tradition, joined us at the hospital.   Ben and Rylan went to Keith and Mary's for the duration.  Rebekah made sure the ER folks were taking care of me properly and asked the right questions, as I was a tad groggy.  I had electrical stickees all over, and unpleasant X-rays and scans still strapped to the board.  They gave me bags to throw up in, but since my neck was immobilized I would have had to vomit UP.  After an eternity of nausea a nurse put some pain and nausea relievers in my IV.  After eight stitches, they sent me home with instructions and two prescriptions.

Rebekah took me home to their spare room and woke me up every three or four hours to ask me if I knew who I was and where I was and why I was where I was.  Sunday morning she told me I looked awful, and Rebekah teased me that I probably would look bad for two weeks.  I slept most of the day surfacing from time to time with headache. I missed joining the church, the Longmont Artist Guild studio tour, and the historic Hover Home open house. So much for overbooking.

By Monday morning, the bump on my noggin was diminished but my left eye got redder, puffier and uglier by the hour and stuck closed.   That's my good eye.  My primary sent me to urgent care, where the doctor had a concern I might have broken my face.  Disliking the notion of bone fragments in my eyeball or brain, I submitted to another CT scan, my face being the only place on my body not X-rayed or scanned in the ER. I look like a woman from a domestic trauma drama. I'm afraid Keith got some evil looks while helping me negotiate all this yesterday.  With only my bad right eye and my face too  swollen for glasses, I was wobbly.  As we all know, looking good being as important as not being broken, I was dismayed to hear from the doc that I may look this way four to six weeks.  I look  worse today, Day 4, as my right eye is developing a sympathetic shiner.  However, my face isn't broken, and the doc said my stitches are beautiful.



Tuesday Night

Family commentary:

1. Your face will make a good conversation starter
2. Get a haircut, you can have a purple streak to match your eye
3. Next time you feel dizzy sit down so you don't have so far to fall
4. You need a smaller dog--it was probably Sadie's fault

Here is the sweet part:  My little grandson, who doesn't talk but doesn't miss much, on his own initiative toddled over to me and gave me a hug.  Grandma bliss.