So, I'm duct taped on this uncomfortable backboard with an equally uncomfortable C-Collar preventing me from closing my mouth completely (apparently my jaws aren't aligned up or something because I couldn't line them up in a way thaw was comfortable) and these two young EMTs are carrying me out of the basement. There is a question as to which way they should carry me to the ambulance, the extremely steep way up the back of the driveway or the much less steep way along the side of the driveway. I voted for the less steep way but I was outvoted. They handled the extremely steep way just fine, though so I've got no complaints.
They put me in the ambulance and we began the trip to Ashland. One of the EMT's thought it would be fun to suggest that we travel to Ashland via Route 3. I nearly shouted my disagreement at that one. Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've ridden down a rutted, pot-holed gravel/dirt road taped to a backboard. It was awesome. No jarring or anything. While we travelled to Ashland, the EMT that sat in the back with me started an IV. I'm usually pretty easy to get an IV in. I don't do any kind of intraveanous drugs and I'm not scared of needles so it really doesn't bother me. I'd almost met my limit though 3 attempts later. I understood though that it's hard to place and IV in a moving vehicle. That didn't bother me nearly as much as the tape and band aids he kept putting on me. I hate having to pull those things off, my arms are kind of hairy, so I'd prefer not to have them on at all.
We got to the ER and Hubby was waiting when they pulled me out of the ambulance. They took me into a curtained area and he asked if I recognized the room. I said that I really hadn't gotten a good look at anything but the ceiling so no, I didn't recognize it. It was the same room we'd been in on New Year's Eve 2005 when our baby was diagnosed with cancer. I don't have a clear recollection of that night so I took his word for it. The EMT told the nurse, Rachel, that I'd fallen down 3 stairs. I corrected that. I said 3 stairs were actually the only ones I'd managed to come down in an upright position, that I'd fallen down about 10 or so. The nurse came and introduced herself to me. She took my temperature. This struck me as somewhat odd though I'm sure it's just standard procedure. I was in the ER because I'd fallen down a flight of stairs. I didn't have a fever before I fell so I wasn't really clear what the point was in even checking, but I didn't complain. I'm not much of a complainer as you've probably seen from this blog. Hehe, I know.
By the time the doctor came in my head felt like it was being rubbed against a cheese grater. I told them that I'd feel exponentially better if I could just change my position a little. He checked my back, felt of it and determined that I had no back or spinal injury so he removed me from the back board. When he felt of my neck there was some tender spots so he said I had to keep the collar on until after x-rays showed whether or not there was any damage. It was much better though just being removed from the backboard. He raised the bed so I could sit up and after a while of that, the pain in my chest started to ease off a little.
So, after a series of neck, chest and finger xrays (during which I had to remove my bra, which was under a camisole and cardigan and an apron. Try doing that with a bum arm, muscle soreness and an iv.), it was determined that I hadn't broken anything. Thank you Jesus! I was covered with a large number of painful and usightly bruises. The doctor returned to the room and removed my collar so that he could determine exactly what I'd done to the back of my head. He found one cut that wasn't severe. He said, "I'll see if I can open it." I thought that was a horrible idea. Why try to open it if it's already closed! I think he was trying to give me a stroke. I told him I didn't want stitches, as they gross me out. He continued to look through my hair and finally found the worst cut. He gave me a choice: stitches or staples. I chose the stitches. Staples......ugh.
I got four stitches in the back of my head and a Lortab for my trouble. I expected the pain medication to knock me out but it didn't. The nurse wheeled me to the car and Hubby took me home where I finally got to remove my tights, skirt and sweater. I had so much blood in my hair that it felt like I had a bandage hanging off of the back of my head. And I couldn't wash it. That was probably the worst part.
So this was my adventure. You've probably already heard about all of this if you've seen me since it happened. I was just a little longer finishing it than I expected. Sorry, no pictures. Hubby was so adamant in his belief that I wasn't right in wanting to take them that I was afraid maybe he's right.
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