Well, Father’s Day evolved into another one of ‘Those’ Holidays (まさかの…………)
It was hard to find something to follow Valentine’s Day Ice Skating (and the subsequent broken wrist I acquired five minutes after hitting the ice—no pun intended).
The day started off with a mediocre morning which drifted into a rather aimless afternoon. I decided to stir up my circulation a bit and do a few games of tennis with son, Chris.
It was all going pretty well (meaning I finally got to the point where something got over the net)….until I tripped over my feet and slammed my head (wrist/elbow/knee–right side of course…because I’m right handed) into the
hard court subsequently ratcheting my neck back in the process.
I think initially the stupidity of it all got to me more than the pain (I did the cursory scan to see who saw me swan dive against the right lane). My son insisted that I go to the hospital….which represents a minimum of $500 and at least six hours in real cost/time. Of course, I immediately thought of Natasha Richardson and the brain swelling incident on the bunny slopes.
Okay, off to the E.R. (So much for Father’s Day, Dad.)
Anyway, within about 30 minutes (faster than you can say ‘The Triage Nurse is on her Break’—again No PUN intended)…the bump on my head is the size of what I would imagine a goose egg would look like IF I ever saw one.
Figures. Well, at least it wasn’t my nose. (I guess I’m saving that for Labor Day and another EXTREME SPORTS injury—what’s next, Billiards Accident?)
I was ushered to a waiting room and after an hour, I was treated to a score of MRI and CT scans. Upon review of my films, they saw my fifth cervical whatever disc fracture in my neck and proceeded to order ANOTHER CT scan (add $500 more/at least two more hours—do not pass ‘GO’ do not collect ‘$200, blah, blah, blah).
Okay, so Fast Forward–‘as if’…..SEVEN (yep, count ’em SEVEN) hours, two pain pills, and about 60 games of hangman later.
I was paroled from the Emergency Room (poetically referred to as ‘discharged’)….with the understanding that I have to follow up with MY orthopedic surgeon (who at this rate I should keep on retainer) and my General Practitioner. It sounds like I have an entourage. Actually, at this point that might not be the worst idea.
I’ve suggested that the Next time (and, yeah, I’m sure there WILL BE A NEXT TIME) I fall on my head, etc…..that my son just shoot me with a silver bullet and be done with it.
Time to find coffee. Hope I don’t kill myself en route to my kitchen.