Back At It

Today is my first day back at work. We have the year end closing to contend with, and that should take all week. Corporate is kind enough to give me a whole extra day to close the year, with full financial statements due on Friday. My office plants lived! I was so worried about the poor babies, living twelve days without water. I left the lights on in my office for them, and they’re dry but they held up well.

I made a few errors in my last budget- duplicated a bill and didn’t have a formula in properly, so somehow? I have enough money to get through the month? This must be wrong. Surely I will get a bank statement or a bill or something that will negate this. It actually *feels* wrong to have enough money to do what I need to do. Sick, huh?

So, in honor of the new year and health insurance and a good swift kick in the ass, I’m dusting off the livin’ clean category. I was bitching about a Victoria Secret model in the semi annual sale catalog when WH promptly informed me that he was pretty sure it wouldn’t take me more than 90 days to look like her if I got off my ass and worked out. I looked at her and did a mental comparison with my own figure, and heard the words of a coworker (“you could be smokin’ hot if you tried”), and vowed once again to work out a few times a week. Today is my second day, and my ass hurts. In a good way.

Because I am a horrible, awful slacker (or maybe just because I have dial up at home and was caught up in cleaning and resting), I have not visited many of you. Or commented. Nor have I posted anything I promised to over at 2 Hot Dishes. I will correct this immediately.

Here is the best story from the past two weeks.

New Years Day. WH and I head to Unexpected Bill’s for a rescheduled gathering that fell through on New Year’s Eve. Much drinking and merriment abound. I dozed off on the couch about 12am. Around 130am, WH came to ask me if I wanted to stretch out in a bed. No, I did not, I wanted to be left asleep until he was ready to go home. We had discussed this previously, so I was a little snappy about it. I was also half asleep, so after I bitched a little, I rolled back over and drifted back off.

Then I heard a horrible thud. Like a bookshelf falling over. Or something. With a kid, three dogs, and three very drunk people in the house, I didn’t think anything of it. I rolled over again. Then UB’s wife starting screaming WH’s name.

I got off the couch and headed towards the noise. WH lay on the floor, in the doorway between the porch and the sunroom, on his back with his arms at his sides. Not responding. Not conscious. UB and his wife (both RNs, remember) call his name and try to rouse him. He looks dead. He’s laying on the floor, dead looking, while we all stand around him, Adicus included. Suddenly, he sat straight up, said he was hot, and started projectile vomiting. When he was done, he sat for a few minutes out on the porch, and then UB brought him inside to get him some puke free clothes to wear. UB was having a hard time getting him to change. I was keeping my distance, because, you know, puke. So finally he changes clothes and we sit down together on the couch.

WH looked at me, confused, and asked me why his head hurt. I told him- you went out on the porch, you passed out, you fell backwards through the door and cracked the back of your head on the hardwood floor. One hundred and thirty pounds hitting the floor full force. He looked at me, confused, and said “Okay, but why does my head hurt?”

UB and I spent the next few hours explaining to WH that he had a mild to moderate concussion, asking him when his birthday was, telling and retelling him why his head hurt. For the first hour or so, I was scared to death. The look in his eyes was so eerily familiar- my father’s stepdad had dementia before he passed, and that was what I saw in my husband’s eyes. Confusion, worry, fear, pain, and trust.  That kind of begrudging trust you give to someone you know and love when you have no idea what’s going on.

We left UB’s house around 5am and finally slept, but only an hour or so at a time, before I had to wake myself up to wake WH up to make sure he was only sleeping and not brain dead. Waking up wasn’t hard. I don’t have kids, but I think I know now how a mother sleeps when she’s worried about her baby.

He’s fine now. A headache here and there, but otherwise fine. Thank goodness.

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8 Responses

  1. WOW!!!! That’s SCARY!!!!!! Happy New Year to you! I hope WH is doing well.
    And frankly, I’m glad the holidays are OVER.

  2. Thankfully he’s fine – that is a little scary.

  3. Oh my goodness, falling through a door is no way to start the new year. Glad he’s ok!

  4. Thank goodness he’s ok. That would have sent me into a terrible panic, and a sprint to the closest phone for 911.

  5. That sounds so scary! I’m glad he’s ok.

  6. Concussions sure ARE scary – but people usually come out of them without any permanent damage if they are at least able to stay conscious through it. Glad to hear there’s no harm no foul.

    Also: Welcome back to teh webz! It isn’t the same without ya. 🙂

  7. DoK- if I had not been in the company of two trauma RN’s, I would have been on that phone in a heartbeat.

    Thanks everyone. It was really scary, but he’s fine now. 🙂

  8. Yikes! So scary! I don’t think I would have ever been quite so relieved to see projectile vomit!

    And, yes, I hit the gym today for the first time in 4 months. I can already feel my thighs aching.

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