Crash and Learn or Whip Out The Lash!

Amazing how you can crash and burn at the airport, having never left the ground.

You know, fly 2500 feet without so much as a whimper (see previous post), yet be only 5'11 from the ground and find yourself at one with with mother earth.

Welcome to my world.

OK, so what does this pic have to do with problems at the airport? Really, nothing! But it makes my point...you just never know what's going to happen when you are goofing around and having too much fun.

Seriously, though, how do these things happen? And to me? I think it must "run" in the family. Right, Becki (niece)? Hee hee! I think I should include April (daughter) in on that. Did I mention my bro? And for sure, Ma. We seem to have a rich history in gracefully planting our butts on the ground without warning.

I love the story April tells about walking along with her friend and co-worker at the time, Richard, who's about 6'4 or so. They were chatting away and suddenly he noticed when he turned to continue the conversation, she was no longer along side of him. Confused, he began to look around, only to find his precious eight-months pregnant friend about 5 feet or so behind him sitting ever so sweetly on the floor. Yep, she had quietly landed on the floor without a hint. Well, except of course, her disappearance.

What Happened While Flying Through The Hanger
Fast-forwarding to just a few days ago. I was minding my own business after a morning of helping out at the airport, amidst well over 1000 people, when I decided to stop and take a pic of sweet Cole while he was vying for the pancake lady to toss him his breakfast . Accomplished. But I wasn't satisfied. So I took another step back to get a better shot, when out of nowhere some invisible force swooshed right underneath me, knocked me off my feet and smacked me onto the cold, hard, but smooth floor.

Yelp, there I was in all my glory, sprawled out like one of the missed pancakes that splattered to the floor, not the plate.

I heard gasps rush across that large hanger and then felt a flood of people around me as if I were hurt or something. Hub and strangers. Then as if in a paranormal whisper, I hear, "I'm a paramedic, let me help." And before grasping why I would need a paramedic, I felt this strange swelling impression. On my head! Accompanying it was a blazing fiery sensation...and not just on my head, but my gluteus max. And maybe even my minimus. Butt, nothing felt minimal at that point. Okey, dokey, so maybe I was hurt!

I'm not one to make a scene, nor do I like attention drawn in my direction. But then who does in gigs such as this? Regardless, you know all eyes are on you at this shamelessly naked moment.

But I do know how to laugh at myself. You learn this at an early age when trouble seems to follow you. You either cry or pretend this really isn't "you", or this is just a nightmare, or...laugh. Laughing seems to work the best for me. Only this time, I couldn't seem to draw a smile on my face. Everything being a little blurry might have created the impasse. You think?!

All I wanted was to get this thing over with and get the move on to the next event, and one that was not focused on me...horizontally, hugging the floor.
I recall saying, "I'm fine, just help me get up!!!!" Vertical once again, I drew deep inside my psyche for inner guidance to thwart the demands of pride goes AFTER a fall syndrome. Forget the "before" thing. hee hee.

Trying not to make any contact with the sea of eyes fixated upon me, I charted my course without any stops to my trusty destination: A chair facing the opposite direction from any onlookers. Surely, I was kidding myself. No matter. It's what's in the mind that does...matter, that is.

On A More Serious Note
Honestly, it was the recent death of Natasha Richardson, rather than the jolting pain, that flashed through my head. It was then that I began to understand the concerns of those around me.

If you recall, Natasha was in a "simple" skiing accident on what some might call a "bunny hill" (where beginners practice). She fell and hit her head, with no outward symptoms, so she chose to go on about her day, not realizing she was a walking time bomb. She died just a day later.

The autopsy revealed an epidural hematoma as the cause. Now had she chosen to go to the hospital as was recommended, might she have lived? It seems a possibility. Too, the only hospital with the kind of trauma she had was 60 miles away, hindering her hope.

So What Is Epidural Hematoma?

The dura is the lining that surrounds the brain and spinal cord. A person with an epidural hematoma has a collection of blood between the dura and the skull. The collection of blood places pressure against the brain, which can cause the brain to malfunction. Free Med

The condition is present in one to three percent of head injuries.[1] Between 15 and 20 percent of patients with epidural hematomas die of the injury.[2] (Wikipedia) A different source states that the percentage of death is between 5 and 40 percent, and 1 to 2 percent of people treated with head injury experience epidural hematomas in the U.S.. It is rare.

While there can be pronounced symptoms in the immediate, there are cases, such as in Natasha's, that people won't experience any alarming evidence on the front end. Unfortunately. Every undiagnosed second could mean a step closer to death.

However, symptoms typically occur within a few hours, if not sooner. Just remember that in some cases, it could be more than just hours but days before a red flag alerts attention.

Physical findings in someone with an epidural hematoma may include:

Tests that may be used to evaluate epidural hematoma include:

Always remember that any head injury needs attention, whether great or small.

Recovering With Flying Colors
Some of you have been and or now are wondering did I have my head checked out? Well, my brother has been wondering about that for years. Tee hee, right Bro? Actually, since he knocked me off the piano bench when I was a mere, what, 18 months old? Funny thing is, I always thought I just "fell" off by myself.

But all fun aside, looking back, it appears that my mother was more savvy than most by rushing me to ER. By the way, everything checked-out OK. So, Bro., that can't be your "tale" of why I'm the wild and crazy lady I am today!

Back to my fall this past week-end. I'm in recovery, with a few nicks and bumps. My head still has a nice sized hemo thingy, but it's coming in handy as it's masking my cow-lick, that I complain about so often. My son asked me if that would take care of it permanently. Too funny.

And, yes, my head is VERY sore and tender. Though I admit, the greater pain resides in my neck. Yes, a pain in the neck. Oh my. The rest of my anatomy seems to have survived quite well. Thanks to...you know...PILATES. I promise you, it makes all the difference in the world. Money back guaranteed.

And, no, I didn't go into to ER to have my head scanned. So don't do as I do, do as I say, and you'll be much better off, at least in this cases. Let's hope I make it. I'll let you know. Until then, stay on your feet!

Thanks for your concerns and prayers.

NOTE: The paramedic did NOT suggest I have my head checked. Therefore, I think she should, because that's a law suit ready to happen (I don't mean by me). From what I understand, paramedics should always recommend a trip to ER when there is a head injury.
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