Well, it was a good run folks. Sadly, my streak of 24 years without a trip to the hospital has finally come to an end. Since I'm the youngest child and my mom never made me a Baby Book, I will have to document this momentous occasion on Le Blog. Enjoy.
It all began two days ago. Like most normal 24 year-olds, I was enjoying a rip-roaring Friday evening at my parents' house. I realized it was time for "Say Yes To the Dress: Bridesmaids" and set forth to watch it in the basement where there is cable TV.
At the top of the stairs, I decided to conserve energy by turning off the hall light. Unbeknownst to me, an unused plastic trash bag had fallen onto the second step (which I was now unable to see thanks to my hippie father's influence). For some reason, I was also uncharacteristically wearing socks. (Note: the following sequence of events will be cited in the future every time my mother tells me I shouldn't walk around barefoot.)
Let's recap:
Darkness + Socks +Deadly Slippery Trash Bag = Molly falling down a flight of stairs
As I was crashing like a herd of rhinoceri falling daintily, I couldn't help but feel indignant that my life wasn't flashing before my eyes. Isn't being scared out of your mind supposed to go hand-in-hand with a comforting, well-soundtracked montage of your life?
Apparently not. All I could think as I was hurtling toward the bottom of the steps was, "Good Lord, when did we get SO MANY friggin stairs?!"
No montage whatsoever. What a rip-off. I blame Hollywood for perpetuating this myth. What's next, I'm going to find out that God doesn't really look or sound like Morgan Freeman?
But I digress. So I landed in a heap, thankfully not crushing my work laptop that I'd been carrying... although tragically losing the piece of carrot cake I'd planned on eating. Dagger!
After interrupting my family's viewing of NCIS: Los Angeles and most likely scaring them half to death, they helped me establish that all of my limbs seemed to be functioning relatively well and I was in fact still breathing. I decided not to go to the Emergency Room that night-- partly because I thought the pain would subside and partly because I figured it would be rather embarrassing to write "tripping" on the Reason for Visit form.
However, the next day I was still seriously hurting. Given my history of back issues, Dr. Mom and I concluded that getting X-rayed at the Walk-In Clinic would be a logical next step...... but I definitely did not anticipate the Walk-In Clinic staff weighing me, listening to my story, and immediately sending me to the ER. Ohhh hey, PANIC MODE.
Thankfully my oldest sister Eileen was with me and kept my mind off the fact that A) we were most likely going to miss our dad's 60th birthday bowling party and B) I was probably already paralyzed (good thing I'm not prone to overreaction or anything).
My partner in crime kept me talking and laughing throughout all the waiting, didn't laugh at how nervous I was, carried my purse, and shared her iPhone to keep me entertained... basically she was a great big sister, as always. :-) We actually had a pretty fun time....
....except for the part when the Triage nurse looked at my list of prescriptions and said, "Whoa, this is a LOT of medicine." (Thanks Tracy, I hadn't noticed that I have to take 10+ medications a day. Moving on.)
Or the part when the young ER doctor looked at the scrape on my back and goes, "WHOA! How did you do this?! Were you drinking??" and I had to answer sheepishly, "Um no, I was at my parents' house..." Even better? They had an intern transcribing our conversation, so my lame weekend evenings are recorded and permanently attached to my medical records. Sweet.
To make a very long story short(ish), I will explain the rest of the afternoon in pictures, graciouslystaged documented by Eileen. (E, perhaps you should consider a second career in photojournalism!)
Hopefully after spending the last 10 minutes reading through my ramblings, you've realized that I am thankfully A-OK, and decidedly not paralyzed. No broken bones, just some soreness/bruises/scrapes.
Shout out to my guardian angel for once again coming through in the clutch. :-)
It all began two days ago. Like most normal 24 year-olds, I was enjoying a rip-roaring Friday evening at my parents' house. I realized it was time for "Say Yes To the Dress: Bridesmaids" and set forth to watch it in the basement where there is cable TV.
At the top of the stairs, I decided to conserve energy by turning off the hall light. Unbeknownst to me, an unused plastic trash bag had fallen onto the second step (which I was now unable to see thanks to my hippie father's influence). For some reason, I was also uncharacteristically wearing socks. (Note: the following sequence of events will be cited in the future every time my mother tells me I shouldn't walk around barefoot.)
Let's recap:
Darkness + Socks +
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| The stairs from The Exorcist have now been demoted to "Second-Scariest Staircase in the Greater Washington DC area" |
Apparently not. All I could think as I was hurtling toward the bottom of the steps was, "Good Lord, when did we get SO MANY friggin stairs?!"
No montage whatsoever. What a rip-off. I blame Hollywood for perpetuating this myth. What's next, I'm going to find out that God doesn't really look or sound like Morgan Freeman?
 |
| Is nothing sacred to you people?? Source |
After interrupting my family's viewing of NCIS: Los Angeles and most likely scaring them half to death, they helped me establish that all of my limbs seemed to be functioning relatively well and I was in fact still breathing. I decided not to go to the Emergency Room that night-- partly because I thought the pain would subside and partly because I figured it would be rather embarrassing to write "tripping" on the Reason for Visit form.
 |
| With my luck, I'd have to explain my clumsiness to some hottie doctors like these two. I'll work through the pain, thankyouverymuch. Source |
Thankfully my oldest sister Eileen was with me and kept my mind off the fact that A) we were most likely going to miss our dad's 60th birthday bowling party and B) I was probably already paralyzed (good thing I'm not prone to overreaction or anything).
 |
| Calm, Cool, Collected. (Read: Sweating bullets) |
....except for the part when the Triage nurse looked at my list of prescriptions and said, "Whoa, this is a LOT of medicine." (Thanks Tracy, I hadn't noticed that I have to take 10+ medications a day. Moving on.)
Or the part when the young ER doctor looked at the scrape on my back and goes, "WHOA! How did you do this?! Were you drinking??" and I had to answer sheepishly, "Um no, I was at my parents' house..." Even better? They had an intern transcribing our conversation, so my lame weekend evenings are recorded and permanently attached to my medical records. Sweet.
To make a very long story short(ish), I will explain the rest of the afternoon in pictures, graciously
 |
| "Where is the volume on this thing? Mob Wives is hard enough to understand even when you can hear them..." |
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| The "CALL FOR HELP" & "CHANGE CHANNEL" buttons are uncomfortably close together. ....or so I tried to explain to the nurse who came rushing in to assist me |
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| Being whisked off to X-rays and CAT scans AKA reenacting the opening sequence of RESCUE 911 |
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| Learning that "make patients hurry up and wait" is a little-known section of the Hippocratic Oath |
Shout out to my guardian angel for once again coming through in the clutch. :-)
hillllllllarious, as per usual. :)
ReplyDeletehaha thank youuu
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