With the boys vacationing at the G-rents, I slept in this morning until 10. It was so wonderful to wake up naturally! I had a few errands I needed to run, so I popped in the car to get them over and done with, in order to come home before lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on the couch reading my latest book.
I stopped at the boys school to pick up Ashe's inhaler. While I was there, the school secretary mentioned she loved my ring back tone (Pirates of the Caribbean) so I taught her how to make her own. She had just bought her very first smart phone and was so excited to try out all of the new things her old cell phone couldn't do. We talked about multiple ring tones, ring tone editors, and how she could have a ring back tone for every day of the week if she wanted to. I left her giddy with excitement.
Next on my list was the kids doctors office. I needed to pick up Xavier's medication prescriptions. I figured I'd hit Ulta after that, drop of the meds, then head home.
Instead, after laughing with the doctors secretary over Xavier's recent sex ed debacle, when I went to open the van door, my spatial understanding seemed to have misfired and the van door smacked me upside the head like a bitch in a black market wrestling match. I went down.
Although I saw stars and planets, and maybe a comet or three, it didn't hurt at first. I glanced in the window and noticed that the side of my temple was literally indented. That's when I started to get woozy. I hung on to the car for a few minutes, trying to figure out if I was woozy from seeing my head pushed in like soft clay, or if it was the injury itself.
After those few minutes passed I decided the best course of action was to not be an idiot and drive just yet. I walked back to the pediatricians office and ever so sweetly asked if they had an ice pack I could borrow. Ann, the awesome front desk manager, rushed over to take a look. I know she's seen some scary stuff so when her jaw dropped upon looking at me and my new mark of idiocy, I knew I was in deep shit.
She hustled me over to a quiet dark room, grabbed the nurse and an ice pack, then hustled back tsk-tsking. The RN, a new nurse to the practice, asked if I was dizzy. I wasn't but I was seeing spots in my vision once in awhile. She asked if I had had breakfast yet (nope) and handed me two lollipops. It was then that I realized that if I was going to smack myself upside the head, I had done it in the right place. Sucking on a cream soda dum dum, I lay down with the icepack and waited to see if I was going to pass out.
The kids doctor sauntered into the room ten minutes later and she and I both laughed when she saw who was the mom who hit her head. I love the boys doctor. She has such a great sense of humor. She checked me out and said it was a shame I hit the side of my head.
"Why" I asked?
"Because if you hit the middle of your head, you would have looked like the perfect Klingon." We both gave the Vulcan hand sign and snickered.
She asked the normal questions one asks a person with head trauma: how many fingers am I holding up? What day of the week is it? What month is it? I got the first one right no problem. The other two I whined to her that it was not fair she ask me those questions! It's summer vacation and all days look the same. She laughed and asked me to try. Fortunately I knew today was Thursday (it is Thursday, right?) because tomorrow is Friday and we're headed to the symphony tomorrow. I also know it's June because the kids are out of school. So nyah.
After a lot of back and forth between the doctor, nurse, and Ann, it was decided that I would live. I was given another lollipop, gifted the ice pack, and told to head straight to Urgent Care if I pass out or vomit twice. I thanked them for their help, and now I am determined to send them a case of wine for the holidays. I also lament that I can not have them as my own doctors, as my PCP sucks donkey balls.
So here I am at home, alive but now in pain, sitting still and wondering if I am going to rush to the bathroom. I feel woozy once in awhile (not good) but that's the worst of it. Well that and the fact that my forehead is showing off a pretty little goose egg.
J just shook his head and muttered under his breath (although loud enough so that I could hear him) that it's my genes that cause Ashe to have so many Ashe-idents. I'd debate him on that, but I just want to lie down now and whimper.
Ugh
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