Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Never a Dull Moment

I woke up to a face-slapping.
I was lying on my back, with my husband kneeling over me, gently slapping my cheeks.
"I'm calling an ambulance," he said.
I looked up at the ceiling and saw the horrid faux-wood ceiling tiles of our hall. Why wasn't I in bed? Why was I lying in the hall? And why was my husband slapping my face like an 80s' soap opera diva?

All of these are good questions and can be answered with two words: stomach flu. Despite my rabid disinfecting, I picked up my husband's bug - except mine manifested itself in a series of fainting fits. On the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I fainted. I woke up briefly and found myself amidst a pile of screws, nails and rawl-plugs that I must have pulled off the shelf where we keep our DIY stuff as I fell.
"Crikey," I thought when I came to, "This must be one of those really weird interpretive dreams, where you find yourself surrounded by all kinds of strange objects that have a Freudian meaning. What's up with the nails? What do the screws mean? How do I interpret rawl plugs, for crying out loud?"
After a couple of seconds, when nothing else happened - no flying frogs in rubber boots, no guest appearances by deceased family members - I realised that it was unpleasantly real, so I called out for the Gingerbread Husband ... and the next thing I remember was being woken by a panicked husband who was threatening to call an ambulance.

"Can you feel your legs?" he kept asking, and I wriggled my toes to show I could. In fact, I was strangely proud of the fact that I was wriggling them like a pianist doing the scales - doh, ray, mi, fa, so, la, ti, doh! - but he wouldn't acknowledge my toe-wriggling prowess, he just saying, "We have to get you to the emergency room!" I convinced him not to drag me out in the snow in the middle of the night to the ER, instead I was allowed go back to bed. The next day I spent 5 hours in the ER waiting to have my toes x-rayed - in falling, I not only emptied the DIY shelf, I also scratched my neck (?) and stubbed two toes so badly that they looked broken (they're not, but the pain I am to experience is equal to a fracture, said the ER doctor with some grim satisfaction.)

Anyway, all's well that ends well - however, five hours in the emergency room with stomach flu and suspected broken toes will not count as the highlights of 2010. But we got home and made tea and had a supper of toast and honey - and all was right with the world. Then the Gingerbread Husband (who'd had a tremendous shock: he found me at the bottom of the stairs and thought by the way I was lying that I'd fallen down the stairs and broken my neck), lay down on the floor to recreate the astonishing angles at which he found my limbs akimbo
... and I promptly fainted again.
I probably need a day or two in bed.


Gracey is not my name.... said...

Scary! Get better soon!

love2stitch said...

Oh dear, that sounds like your 2010 is going out with a "Paukenschlag" - and a very scary one too.
Hope you feel better soon and that the pain is not going to be too bad!

Susie said...

Gingerbread lady, you haven't had a good Christmas, have you? Start badly, end well, my mother always says, so this means your 2011 is going to be absolutely excellent and you're going to deserve it.

Feel better soon!

Michelle said...

I know I shouldn't mock the afflicted, but that post made me chuckle! You have a way with words when it comes to describing your fainting attack and the ensuing hospital visit, not to mention your husbands' complete disinterest in your talented tootsies!

Seriously though, I hope you feel better soon!

A rootdigger said...

perhaps you needed more liquid too. were you dehydrated.
You tell a story well, I need to take notes. and learn from you.

Julie said...

I'm glad you have a nice detached sense of humor about it! I'm also VERY glad you are back home and recuperating. Let Gingerbread Husband take good care of you, and feel better soon!

Quinn said...

Good heavens, someone makes faux-wood ceiling tiles?

(Also, I hope you feel better soon!)

The Gingerbread Lady said...

"someone makes faux-wood ceiling tiles?"

Yes, indeed they do. I believe it was the sight of them in my somnambulic state that caused me to keel over. Someday, when we have the mental strength to cope with it, those tiles are coming down! They're obviously a health hazard ...

BriteCloud said...

How awful! But I have to say I am guffawing, laughing outloud to myself and hearing it echo back to me. What a wonderful writer you are. And I am only laughing because I know you survived and feel well enough to regale us with this tale. So glad you weren't seriously hurt!