Ice, Ice, Baby

As of this morning, we haven't received any snow but only it's ugly evil step-sister, freezing rain. It didn't even stick which I am thankful for because I hate ice. I have always had a distaste for it but about six years ago, I had a little incident and ever since have absolutely loathed it.

I was going out to warm up the car in order to take the kids to school. I wasn't planning to do anything else so I just slipped on my moccasins rather than going to the trouble of putting on shoes. There was a thin layer of ice on the porch and as I was stepping onto the sidewalk, I lost my footing and fell. My ass hit the sidewalk like a ton of bricks and the back of my head struck the porch.

I had a slight pain on the back of my head and I was slightly woozy but other than that I thought that I had only hurt my pride. I felt back there and there was not even a bump. So I got the car started and then took the kids to school. I puttered around the house until about noon and then took a nap. I was getting a bit of a headache but other than that I felt fine.

By that evening, the ice was quite a bit thicker and my 30 mile drive to work took quite a bit longer than usual as I could only drive about 30 to 40 miles per hour without slipping and sliding. Through the night at work, my slight headache had become a throbbing splitting thing of torture. When my shift was over, I drove 30 miles in another direction to the clinic.

They did a few tests and asked a few questions. I told them when I did it and what I had been doing. The doc told me that I had a concussion but he did not know how severe it was and said that I should go to the hospital another 30 miles away through the now awful road conditions. He wanted to talk to the person who had brought me to the clinic but I told him that I had driven myself to the clinic. He genuinely showed shock that I had been able to drive myself to the clinic but told me that he could not let me drive myself to the hospital and if I didn't have anyone to drive me then he would have to send me in an ambulance.

I really did not want to have to pay the added expense of an ambulance and I was in the town where my in-laws lived so I called them up. My mother-in-law and father-in-law were kind enough to take me to the hospital and since my mother-in-law was a retired CitiBus driver from Midland, she was not bothered with driving on the ice. We made fairly good time getting to the hospital but by this time my headache had gained a life of it's own.

After about a three hour wait in the E.R., they finally stuck me in an examination room. After taking my vitals, the nurse showed me a little numbered chart. The chart showed various emoticons ranging from the grinning like the cat who ate the canary #1 to the crying like the baby who had just had his candy taken away #10. I did not want to seem like a wuss that couldn't handle a little headache so I said it was about a #7. During my three hour wait in that god-forsaken exam room, what I had told them was a number #7 had progressed to a #13 (which if I had showed them one of their cutesy god-damned emoticon, would have been a tortured soul in hell with it's face melting off) and beleive me I started being honest with the nurses.

After being run through various machinary when the doctors finally arrived, I was told that I had a mild to moderate concussion and they would write me a prescription for some Vicodin and I should come back to one of them in two weeks for a check up.

I had my in-laws take me to the pharmacy to finally get me some releif for my headache. I had only had it for 31 freakin' hours. Why the hell they couldn't have gave me something in the hospital is beyond me.

Since then I never wear my f**kin' moccasins outside, when it is icy. And now if I do not have to go outside in the ice then by God I don't. So I plan to lounge around the house today and remain all comfy cozy. I wish that I had a fireplace though. While doing this post I got a terrible hunger for some S'mores.