My parents, that is. More for the way it sounds, I guess, versus the actual person.
* * *
I have thought, recently, that my life is pretty great, although it would be great if I could stay out of my own way. Broken bones and other minor catastrophes have been interruptions of really happy times.
And then I did it again: last Tuesday, I hit the back of my head on a shelf. I have surely hit my head harder – getting in and out of the Kenya van and on US Air regional jets, for two examples.
But for whatever reason, I saw stars this time. And when I tried to tell someone what happened, I couldn’t get the right words from my head to my mouth. And then I cried.
I didn’t go to the hospital or the doctor until Wednesday. They said I have a concussion but no bleeding in my brain (!!) or anything. They told me to rest.
At first, the plot of Law & Order reruns was too much to comprehend. The sun felt too bright. I suddenly needed my glasses to watch TV.
Until Sunday, the worst of my concussion was the dizziness. Oh, and the utter boredom of resting without reading or writing much.
On Sunday my parents visited and I took a cab to the city. The ride made me dizzy and nauseated but I thought I’d be OK. At first, I was.
But then I crashed. Hard.
Approximately forty-five minutes in, my head began throbbing and the dizziness required me to rest my head on the wall behind my seat. I couldn’t finish my lunch. Mom and Dad sent me home.
This totally sucks. I cannot recommend that you get yourself a concussion when presented with the option.
Sidebar: I requested a stupid Uber. A driver confirmed and for whatever reason, I added my destination. Time passed, I opened the app to check for the driver’s ETA and…nothing. Apparently the driver didn’t want to go to Williamsburg, canceled and I didn’t get a notification. Fortunately I found a yellow cab soon after and within thirty minutes, I was in my bed.