Humility in a Dark Room

concussion-bolt

Three and a half weeks ago, I was walking through my garage with my husband David, on our way to Parent-Teacher Conferences for our younger daughter. As always, I was chatting and walking and probably planning something in my head to do or say next. We need to pick up our box of farm vegetables after the conference, I might have said, and then also the pizza place is donating a portion of the proceeds tonight to that charity that buys school supplies for kids in need, so we should grab takeout from them, and then…

I felt it. The bolt on the garage floor, the one that’s been sticking out of the cement for at least 12 years since we bought this house, the one I’d tripped over a dozen times but always caught myself. This time, I didn’t. I flew forward, maybe aiming my body around the hood of the car or maybe just flailing, helplessly, in the space between the bolt and the spare marine battery — 50 pounds and unyielding — that suddenly caught the left side of my head before the rest of me landed.

The shock of pain was sharp, or the sharp pain was shocking, or both. I cried, immediately, with the injustice of the thing I’d hit, the heft of it, the weight, the way my head and also maybe my ear hurt, the way I was left lying on the garage floor on my stomach. I lay there crying as David tried to assess what had happened. The garage was dark. The floor was gritty. My head was exploding.

After a few minutes, I sat and then stood up. David  asked if I could see him, and I could. I knew his name and mine, the president (ugh), the date. David wanted to take me to the hospital. I insisted we needed to go to our daughter’s conferences. It hurts, I said, but I think I’m ok.

So, we went to conferences. I had a few quiet, secret moments of dizziness, but I made it up and down the stairs and through a series of conversations. When we stepped outside the school, though, the first wave of nausea hit. I pretended it was hunger and pressed on — to get the vegetables, to get the pizzas. When we stepped outside the pizza place, the nausea and dizziness were so intense I nearly dropped to my knees.

David took me to the hospital. Continue Reading…

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