Bruised

“There I was being wheeled in and wired up.”

I had a bit of an adventure this evening. Went to close the landlady’s garage door and didn’t read her whole text about how to do it. There was a button I could press outside, but I couldn’t find it. So I pressed the inside button and ran out while the door was closing. Like Indiana Jones. I made it out, but then tripped and fell on the driveway.

There’s a minute when you realize you’re falling and it’s too late to stop it. The Wile E. Coyote moment. I regretted all my choices before landing splat on the ground. My knee hit, my hands bracing my fall, and then the scary bit, my left brow bone.

I was okay enough to stagger into the house and plop into my comfy chair. Texted the kid, texted some friends. Then I started getting a bit dizzy and nauseous.

Thank goodness I’ve been watching Call the Midwife. I’d actually had a dream this morning that Dr Turner drove me to a hospital. So I called 911.

The EMT’s arrived when I was at my goofiest, panicky and out of it. They hustled me out to the flashing lights.

It was funny to be the one in the ambulance when I spent last year tending to so many others being whisked to ERs. There I was being wheeled in and wired up.

My friend, Felicity, who lives across the street from the hospital strolled over and played mother.

I’m fine. I have a big lumpy bruise over my left eye and possibly a mild concussion. Nothing in my knee broke.

There was a delightful moment when the doctor brought in a warm blanket and kind of tucked me in, and things felt very Nonnatus House.

Now I’m home eating pizza and watching the 2021 Christmas special. Battered and bruised, but soldiering on.