I was out for the count.
Really. It was not my intention to spend my speed limit
birthday in the hospital. It started as a quiet dinner out with my sweetie. We
went to Crave, the one in our neighborhood; it’s a popular destination for us –
their menu will please just about anyone, no matter what they feel like eating.
I had a glass of 7 Deadly Zins, some spicy tuna sushi and the walleye entrée.
We came home and were getting ready to open gifts. The plan was I would take Sydney out for a potty break, lock up the downstairs and join Joe in the loft to finish our 'celebrations.' I remember turning off the lights in the kitchen and walking through the dining room. I thought, 'You better sit down in a chair.' But decided I could make it to the living room and sit on the sofa. The next thing I remember is Joe yelling, "Oh, my god what have you done?" and trying to pull me up from the pool of blood I was lying facedown in. There was blood all over my face and hands and a 1-inch gash in my chin where I apparently face-planted on the hard living room floor,
Joe kept a cool head. Brought me a wet towel to clean my face. And brought the car around for a ride to Abbott-Northwestern Emergency Room. He thinks he drives faster than the ambulance would drive. :-)
The Emergency Room made room for me in a quick fashion and had me in a bed and gown before I knew it. They cleaned up my face, and discussed the stitches I would need. Joe, of course, wanted a plastic surgeon called in - '...he doesn't always get what he wants... but if he tries... he gets what he needs.'
By 2 A.M. they had decided 9 stitches would close up my chin nicely - with barely any sign of a scar. They had done some basic x-rays to make sure no more damage had been done and they decided to keep me for observation for the night. They gave me some pain meds which afforded me a light sleep until 6 AM.
No cake. No presents. Worst birthday ever.
We came home and were getting ready to open gifts. The plan was I would take Sydney out for a potty break, lock up the downstairs and join Joe in the loft to finish our 'celebrations.' I remember turning off the lights in the kitchen and walking through the dining room. I thought, 'You better sit down in a chair.' But decided I could make it to the living room and sit on the sofa. The next thing I remember is Joe yelling, "Oh, my god what have you done?" and trying to pull me up from the pool of blood I was lying facedown in. There was blood all over my face and hands and a 1-inch gash in my chin where I apparently face-planted on the hard living room floor,
Joe kept a cool head. Brought me a wet towel to clean my face. And brought the car around for a ride to Abbott-Northwestern Emergency Room. He thinks he drives faster than the ambulance would drive. :-)
The Emergency Room made room for me in a quick fashion and had me in a bed and gown before I knew it. They cleaned up my face, and discussed the stitches I would need. Joe, of course, wanted a plastic surgeon called in - '...he doesn't always get what he wants... but if he tries... he gets what he needs.'
By 2 A.M. they had decided 9 stitches would close up my chin nicely - with barely any sign of a scar. They had done some basic x-rays to make sure no more damage had been done and they decided to keep me for observation for the night. They gave me some pain meds which afforded me a light sleep until 6 AM.
No cake. No presents. Worst birthday ever.
