Tuesday, March 31, 2009

My Poor Melon



As some of you who follow me on Twitter and Facebook already know, I have a concussion. This is, of course, no surprise since I am the Queen of Unlikely Injuries. I'd like to say this particular injury was interesting, glamorous, or at the very least, not self-inflicted.

Unfortunately, I can't.

It all started when someone's kid ordered a bottled orange cream soda. I hurried back to the wait aisle, snatched open the door of the refrigeration unit we keep stocked with salads, cole slaw, butter, creamer, and bottled drinks and found that the day shift person responsible for stocking the unit had failed to do so.

This is not surprising. Irritating, but not surprising.

With no handy bottles of orange cream soda at my disposal, I was forced to race to the back walk-in cooler, where we store crates of the stuff on a bottom shelf. The space between the bottom and middle shelf is about three feet. Plenty of room to lean fully across the shelf and reach the case of soda nestled against the back wall. I leaned, grabbed the soda, yanked it out of it's box, and stood up.

Sadly, I missed a very important step in the whole procedure. I was supposed to lean, grab the soda, yank it out of it's box, back up, and then stand.

Turns out backing up was fairly important.

I slammed the back of my head against the thick metal bar of the shelf above me. The pain was instant, as was the nausea, but I didn't collapse there. I'm thankful. It would have taken them an hour to find me and it's cold in there. Instead, I wandered out of the cooler, one hand clutching the orange cream soda, the other clutching the back of my head. By the time I reached the wait aisle, I knew I was in trouble. The room was spinning lazily around me, my stomach was actively protesting everything I'd ever eaten, and my eyes had long since given up any pretense at focusing on mundane things like walls or people standing in my way.

I placed the bottled drink on my tray, responded to a friend's worried query with a request for her to take the drinks to the table, turned around and found myself on the floor.

The filthy, nasty, dirty floor.

I can't over-emphasize how desperate I had to be to be willing to lay my head down on the restaurant floor. There are filthier places to be, of course, but all of those involve raw sewage or rotting trash. I didn't care. I couldn't stay upright. I could, however, vociferously protest my manager's insistence that he call an ambulance.

"No ambulance," I said, lying there on that filthy floor, trying to make my stomach stay where it should. "NO AMBULANCE."

I'm not sure why that was so important to me, though I think it probably has something to do with my last ambulance ride. My manager, the newest managerial presence in our store and therefore not yet acquainted with my particular brand of stubborn, shook his head and looked helplessly up at my friend, who glared and said, "Never mind. I've already called her husband. He's on his way."

When he arrived, I was in the office (my manager and co-workers had hauled me in there) waiting to go home. I refused to go to the E.R. They would only tell me to take it easy. Once my hubby realized I wasn't dying, he rolled his eyes and asked if, for once, I could maybe injure something other than my head.

I rolled my eyes and told him this should be proof positive that I should be banned from all forms of housework and restaurant work. The only "work" I've never injured myself on is writing.

I think once writing starts paying some bills, he'll be much more receptive to that argument.

It's now Tuesday morning and though I've argued fiercely (and felt a little better each day), my hubby has stepped in and made a dr.'s appointment for me. Apparently, he's worried I might still die from this. I wonder if the dr. will take my side and advocate me as a candidate for disability? Clumsiness is a handicap, right?

11 comments:

  1. Before you get a clean bill of health for your concussion, you will, of course, have to undergo the customary rectal examination...

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  2. Ha! Only if the dr. wishes to receive emergency medical treatment of his own.

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  3. And your poll... *sigh* Chocolate ice cream and strawberry ice cream mixed together are sublime. I buy them separately and make them as one. It's the stupid, boring vanilla that ruins Neopolitan.

    But mint chocolate chip will always be my favorite.

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  4. You be careful with your noggin! There's precious stuff in there. :D

    K

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  5. Kerry - I'm sorry my poll didn't offer the option most palatable to you. I agree that rich choc ice cream w/rich strawberry ice cream is divine. But imo, Neopolitan's brand of choc and straw are weak imitators at best. But YUM for the mint choc chip. One of my faves.

    Katy - At the rate I'm going, all the precious stuff is going to leak right out my ears.

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  6. Get thee to the doctor, woman. You keep all your stories in your melon up there. Need to take care of that.

    Hope you feel better soon!

    ReplyDelete
  7. What is this, number 6 or 7? Did you know that head injuries can drastically change your personality? Don't be surprised if you develop a fetish for apples and green beans after this last one. Retard.

    ReplyDelete
  8. That brain of yours houses brilliance, so yes indeedy, you must take care of it.

    Hope you're feeling better.

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  9. Angelic DaughterApril 1, 2009 at 5:56 PM

    If it consoles you, I recently smacked my head AND shoulder blade on the wall behind my bed when playing Animal Crossing, as I have terrible depth perception, which stands out like a pus spewing ifected pinky toe in everday society, what with my running into walls in the middle of the night, and banging my knee on tables, and stubbing my toe on chair legs, and crushing my arm between my massive body and the cold, hard, apathetic kitchen tile because I'm too hare brained to realize I HAVE TO TAKE OFF MY UNTIED SHOES FIRST, BEFORE scampering through the house, looking for my mommy to give her a hug and tell her I lurve her.

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  10. Angelic DaughterApril 1, 2009 at 6:04 PM

    ... I just realized the wall is a sadist. It's all, like, "APRIL FOOLS, SUCKER! ENJOY YOUR BRUISED SHOULDER BLADE, BUT, MORE IMPORTANTLY, YOUR PRIDE! AHAHAHAHAH!"

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  11. Danielle - Thank you. Dr. was visited. He told me plenty of fluids (which I suspect is a stock phrase he uses when he knows NOTHING but time is going to help) and rest.

    AngDot - Ah...a childhood reminiscent of my own. Maybe we need to adopt a more aggressive attitude toward the stationary objects in our life. Yanno, going with the philosophy that the best offense is a good defense.

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