I thought briefly it would add drama to the tale if I told people the bandaging on the bridge of my nose was there because Wendy had decked me.
But that would be patently untrue and immensely unfair to her since her level of care following my conflict with gravity yesterday could not be excelled..
Here’s what really happened – I fawed down and went boom, pure and simple. I was in a passageway on my way to the kitchen with a bag of flour – I was making bread – and somehow got tangled with something or other – like a throw-rug, and down I went. I don’t mean a stumble to my knees. I toppled is what I did, from completely upright to a face-plant on the floor. First thought was, as I ran my hand under my nose and left it red with blood, was ‘fuck, I’ve gone and broken my nose’. Blessedly I hadn’t. But what shocked me was that it was so unexpected and it happened so quickly and I realized in those microseconds how easily a body could be accidentally killed.
It was humbling. Not to mention a bit undignified.
It actually shook me to my fundament and I momentarily went into shock. The color drained from my face completely, Wendy said and I was cold and sweaty at the same time and Wendy, bless her, was worried that I’d had a stroke and that had been what prompted my fall. I hadn’t. I merely tripped on something and within mere minutes things had returned to normal with me, leaving me with the thought – I’m only half way through getting my bread mixed up so I want to finish it.
Wendy, in no uncertain terms (and she’s very proficient when she is in ‘no uncertain terms’ mode) let it be known that the bread could wait. We were going to emergency to get me checked out. I didn’t argue. Fortunately the hospital is mere blocks away so it wasn’t to much of a challenge to get there, and I admit I was still feeling pretty shaky.
We got there and there didn’t seem to be too many people ahead of me. I got triaged and told the admitting nurse my tail. I knew there nurse so I thought (vainly, it turned out) that this would bump mine to the head of the roster. Silly me. So we sat and we waited and looked at the people and I thought, it is sheer madness to go to a hospital emergency ward on a Sunday afternoon – it became painfully obvious.
And we sat, and we sat, and I developed airplane seat bum in which I shift from cheek-to-cheek to try to find some comfort, and this was worse than a plane ride because in this case I wasn’t going anywhere exciting.
If I’d been a football fan – but I’m not – I would have been diverted by the fact they were running the game between the Seahawks and Green Bay and that would have made the time pass agreeably. The guy sitting across from me, and obviously a fan, was having a wonderful time and was conversing regularly with the screen.
Otherwise it was people coughing and hacking and leaving me to think this was a deucedly unhealthy place to be. I tried to divert myself from impatience by watching a pleasant seeming young mom interacting with her hyper (but not unpleasant) little girl. I pondered whether or not I should have felt guilty about glancing down her bodice top – her left breast was tattooed (sorry, but I’m observant) – and I decided that whatever it took to pass the time agreeably would be acceptable in the eyes of God.
Eventually I grew exasperated and told Wendy there didn’t seem to be much wrong with so we should go home. This was 2 1/2 hours into the exercise of sitting. To prove to her I was fully functional I was able to tell her exactly where I was in my bread recipe. She finally agreed. I went to my nurse friend and she gave me some of those little butterfly tape things so I could look like a banged-up hockey player, as her perusal of the bridge of my nose indicated I didn’t need stitches – the tape should do the trick.
So that was the damage. When I did my face-plant I was wearing glasses and drove the nose-piece into the bridge of my nose. The poor glasses didn’t survive the impact. I’m still wearing that tape. I think it looks kind of cool.