As cliched as that title is, it's about as appropriate as they come.
Yesterday I was lamenting the loss of part of my long weekend due to brain explosions. I was choked that I'd spent Saturday in bed with a migraine when I could have been productively getting stuff done. Well, I ended up getting yesterday afternoon off.
I got a phone call at work from my mom informing me she'd had a fall. Off a ladder. And had called an ambulance. I did the only sensible thing and went straight home where the paramedics and I found her laying on her bedroom floor. Turns out, she broke her hip.
I helped the paramedics by carrying their laughing gas tank as they put her on a stretcher. After that they loaded her up in the ambulance and took her to the hospital where I followed shortly after.
Emergency rooms are crazy places. I felt so out of place, waiting to hear what had happened to my mom, while most seats were taken and a man was being questioned as to the nature of his chest pains and shortness of breath. I do, however, feel like I'm getting used to the ER. It's only the second time in a year I've been there waiting to hear if Mom's broken anything.
I didn't freak out or anything, because it was less than a year ago that she had another accident and broke her pelvis. It's only happened twice, but knowing that it wasn't her head that was broken really made waiting to find out what was going on a lot easier.
Apparently waiting rooms are extra busy after long weekends. Mom was wheeled into the overflow (aka the hallway) to wait for a doctor and x-rays. There was nowhere for me to hang out so I left her with the promise to call me once she knew more.
So I went home. I'd already called work and been instructed not to come back. Since I didn't know if I'd be taking Mom home that afternoon or if she'd need anything from me there was really no point heading back into the office. So I finished the book I had to return to the library and took Mom's dog Furlo for a walk.
Afterwards, Mom called informing me that, yes indeedy, she had broken herself good and not cleanly. Hip surgery was on the agenda. Since there was nothing I could do for her until they knew when her surgery was or she was admitted I went for coffee with a friend.
It was a beautiful afternoon yesterday and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I should have been at work. There was no point, though. I'd been waiting all afternoon to hear what was going to happen and by the time I realized there was nothing for me to do it was an hour before quitting time. It's not like they couldn't function without me at work, either.
Karl and I went to Subway for dinner and were going to bring Mom a couple things when it happened. I was standing at the til in Subway and my vision started going wonky. I couldn't freaking believe it. I was getting the oft feared but never realized second migraine. It was like an aftershock after Saturday's fiend. Two migraines in one week. I wanted to cry and scream and throw my sandwich and pretend like it wasn't happening.
Instead, I got Karl to drive me home. I plopped myself on the couch with an ice bag and old 16 and Pregnant reruns, filling myself with pain killers. Thankfully it wasn't a really bad one, but it was enough to seriously dampen my evening. I took a Gravol at 10 and crawled into bed where I slept the zombie sleep of the drugged.
Karl thinks my migraines are stress induced and I can't say that I disagree with him. The thing is, I handle stress pretty well, and wasn't shaking or anything like I did when the house got robbed. I felt like I kept my head (more or less) and dealt with things as they happened. I'm going to blame a combination of residual caffeine in my system (probably not a factor) and stress. Woohoo! Today I'm practicing deep, calming breaths.
I'd wanted another day off to enjoy my long weekend but I ended up spending part of it at the hospital and the other part, unproductively I might add, sprawled out on the couch watching reruns.
The moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. And your mom might get it in the form of a rod and a few pins in her hip.
I have to say, though, that I'm so thankful it was just Mom's hip. She only fell about four feet, but it could have been much worse. She could have been cleaning second story windows when she fell and she could have hurt more than her hip. I hear hips heal but heads don't. Also, thanks to Gravol and a weaker migraine I'm functioning more today that I might normally after a migraine. There is always a silver lining.
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