Then came Thursday when I fell down a flight of stairs.
An entire flight of stairs.
Count them, thirteen steps.
Go me!
It all happened after lunch.
I put both 2 year-olds and Graham down for their naps upstairs. While tucking everyone in, I hear Mia - the 6 month-old - begin to cry downstairs. I hurried through the rest of the nap routine and headed quickly down the hall to the stairway. I was in a bit of a hurry and didn't notice our dog Tucker sitting on the last step before the top landing. My first step down the stairs was on to poor Tucker.
And I didn't take another step.
I fell hard on my right side and slid/tumbled down the rest of the flight.
Here's a wonderfully illustrated picture to help you visualize the situation.
(Totally helpful, right?)
Crumpled up at the bottom of the steps, I was in a bit of a daze, but the pain was intense and immediate.
It hurt bad. Like hurt bad-bad.
I was crying and started mixing in a bit of Lamaze-type breathing/sobbing in there too for good measure.
Bailey had been standing there in the living room and witnessed the whole thing.
For her benefit, I tried to pull myself together and stop crying, but I couldn't do it.
I tried to get into a sitting position, but halfway there the pain was shooting everywhere and I had to quit.
Bailey was silent and finally came and placed her Bun-Bun lovey on my chest and asked if that helped.
Not so much....
She asked if I needed a band-aid.
Nope, no visible bleeding...
She asked if she should go get Daddy.
Yep, good idea. Let's do that!
I tell Bailey, "Go tell Daddy that Mommy got hurt and she is crying."
She goes upstairs to wake Jared, who was sleeping from working the night before.
She tells him, "Mom stepped on Tucker, and she cried."
Close, but not quite.
Obviously, this did not sound urgent and therefore did not prompt him to leave his warm bed. He shooed her away and went back to sleep.
Bailey comes back down. I ask her, "Is Daddy coming?"
"Yep, he will be here soon."
A minute or so passes and I hear no sign of him coming.
I ask her again, "Daddy is coming?"
She replies, "Yes, but he is going to sleep a bit first."
I sent her back upstairs with instructions not to leave until he came down with her. I just wanted him to come find me and help me get to the couch so I could rest.
This time with Bailey lurking outside the door, Jared gets the feeling something is up and eventually finds me at the bottom of the stairs. He knew shit was serious because he has never seen me cry in pain before - ever. Not through getting a ripped-off toenail stitched back on or during any of our children's deliveries. When he saw I couldn't get up on my own, he announced he was dialing 9-1-1.
Say what?!
I did NOT want that happening.
The thought of the humiliation of having an ambulance coming to get me was enough to get me in an upright position. I begged and begged him to not call, but I couldn't stop him. Every movement was extremely painful, so I opted to stand in one place.
The ambulance did show up.
How freakin' embarrassing.
I was laying on the nearby couch and couldn't even move by the time the EMTs got there.
I mean it could have been worse, as some have pointed out. I could have been naked or something.
{Although if I was naked, I would've had a lot more explaining to do since it was 1 in the afternoon and I was watching other people's children.}
It was humiliating enough as it was.
I had to be strapped to a board with a cervical collar on.
Bailey looks much cuter in it, I assure you.
{Adding insult to injury, Justy pointed out to me later that the collar has adjustments on it. Mine was set to "No Neck."
Ummm... thanks a lot.
I am going to go ahead and assume that in the rush of things, they didn't take the time to adjust it from its standard setting because I don't think I qualify as a "no neck" type. At least I hope not.}
And during this whole time, the number one thought running through my mind was:
if having strangers dead lift you on a backboard from the floor isn't motivation to lose those extra pounds, I don't know what is.
Jared had called my mom after he called the ambulance, so she and my dad arrived in time for Jared to come to the hospital with me.
Also perfect timing?
The funeral dinner across the street got over right as I was being wheeled down the sidewalk to the waiting ambulance. Plenty of people got an eyeful, and with this being a small town, the "news" traveled at the speed of light.
I took a ride in said ambulance and received a couple doses of Morphine. It helped take a bit of the edge off, but not much. I had to leave the C-collar on until I was cleared by a CT scan, which meant I rocked that No-Neck setting for a good 4+ hours. I kept receiving pain meds while hanging out in the E.R. and Jared did his best to entertain me. But truly, even a little chuckle hurt. Shifting positions even slightly was terrible.
After all was said and done, it appeared that everything (other than my pride) was still intact.
So with that I returned home feeling bruised, sore, and stiff, as well as a little embarrassed.
Some leftover pain meds from a c-section helped me sleep that night and the next. I have trouble bending or twisting as I get shooting pain from my right flank up into my right shoulder. Changing positions in bed or even in a chair is awful. An ice pack has been my constant companion and it seems to help, if nothing else but just to numb some of the ache.
Every day it has been getting a little better, but I still have to have Jared around since I can't pick anything (or anyone) up off the floor. I went to physical therapy on Friday and the exercises seem to be keeping the muscles in that area from getting too stiff.
So in summary:
- Beware of dogs that are the same color as the carpeting on your stairs.
- C-collars aren't much fun.
- Toradol - not Morphine - is where it's at, people.
- If you see me out in public, and I am moving at the pace of a 90 year-old lady after hip replacement surgery, you now know why.
- And please feel free to have a laugh at my expense. Who trips down the stairs on their dog, anyway? Seriously.
