Aw, HELL, whatta weekend!
I hate ex-mas. I've always hated ex-mas. It has nothing (well, little) to do with the organized religion issue, but everything to do with the fact that (say it with me, Miss K), when I was little, INEVITABLY I'd commit some grievous offense and end up being in the closet (or the corner, or the basement) during the festivities. Well, except for Mass, b/c I would *always* have to go to Mass. As I got older, I began to suspect the egg donor never really purchased presents for me, and just found reasons for punishment so she wouldn't be found out. The brothers never got in trouble. Go figger.
Anyhoo, as a young adult, I was thrilled to be set free from the requirements of the season. The only reason to celebrate in any way was because I could get free drinks and act like a fool, but I don't really need ex-mas for that. So all was well.
Then I had the Wee MonkeyGurrl, and had to fake it for her sake. It wasn't so bad, except for when the Jman's in-laws were in town. But valium and gin are pleasant holiday helpers.
This year was no different than the previous - we were scheduled to be ALL OVER San Diego County within the three days. Fortunately, I was released from work a little early on Friday, so I could attack the 8 loads of laundry and gazillion presents that needed to be wrapped. Because of the brother's unanticipated call (and b/c I'm neurotic like that), I had a few extra pressies to attend to.
I stayed up well past Craig Ferguson, but it was worth it because I LOVE HIM AND I got to see Twisted Sister perform "Oh Come All Ye Faithful", which sounded way more like "We're Not Gonna Take It", but I'm not complaining. It was very disconcerting to see Dee with all his makeup and HAIR singing "Oh, come let us adore him. . . Christ, the Lord." But well worth it.
So... About an hour later than I wanted to get up on Saturday, I was rushing around, trying to get things ready so we could get on the road. We were supposed to be in Paradise Hills (a few miles north of the border) around noon, so we had to leave by 10/10:30. I had showered, dressed, and packed most of what I needed. Jman had gotten breakfast for the WMG, who was otherwise occupied with cartoons. He went out to fill up the tank and WMG came to join me in the lavatory, happy to put on lipstick and a little powder.
As we do every morning, she stood in front of me while I sat on the toilet to brush her hair. As usual, she was goofin around with the towel hanging on the wall directly in front of her. We were in good spirits and talking about whether she would bring her pillow with her (to nap on the drive), when she slowly started turning toward me and dropped like a rock.
Smacked her nose on the side of the bathtub.
I tried my best to catch her, but I was totally caught unaware. I gathered her into my arms and yelled (trying my hardest to keep the panic out of my voice) at her to wake up. And I saw something that I never want to see again - her eyes, totally without life or spark in them. Dead eyes.
Now, I've jumped out of airplanes, I ride a motorcycle, I (inadvertently) get into fist-fights with complete strangers, but I have never, EVER been as frightened as I was at that instant.
I picked her up and put her in my bed. By that time, she was awake, but unsure of what had happened. All she wanted to do was sleep. I didn't know what happened either, but I thought if she had a concussion (perhaps at school?), the one thing you're not supposed to let them do is go to sleep. So I let her turn on cartoons. :)
Of course, the first call I made was to the Ellster, to let her know we weren't going to make it for lunch. Then I called the Douggles, b/c he is a doctor and I though I would just run it by him. The full panic hadn't hit me yet. He was not of much help (peds are different!), so I called the answering service for the pediatrician on call. That's when the Jman came home and gave me a hard time for not calling him. LIKE HE WOULD BE ON THE TOP OF MY LIST?!?!?!! Besides, he was next...
After the ped called back and we talked, she advised taking the WMG to the Emergency Room. What a misnomer! I don't know exactly where the "Emergency ROOM" is, but we were in the Waiting Room (twice!), the Triage Room, the Exam Room (which wasn't really an exam room, but a hallway outside the room where beds 34 - 36 were), the Radiology Room, the Bathroom, and the Discharge Room. It had been 7 years since our last visit to the ER (we were new parents; we had NO ONE to talk to about baby behavior, and the WMG was quite the colicky baby!) I was asked to do things no mother should ever have to do to her baby - one was hold her arm down while the nurse shoved a stake (okay, injected a catheter) into her teeny, tiny, delicate leetle hand. The other was try and get the WMG to pee in a cup. Y'all think this should be second nature, but for an 8 year old, it was more foreign to her than her Momma cooking a four-course meal and being up before noon on Saturday. She couldn't squat over the toilet (she's too short!), so we ended up making quite the mess.
My poor gurlie. She was so brave and so scared and so hurt. She had no idea what was going on, but tried to have a positive attitude. I tried to work on the one ex-mas gift I hadn't yet completed, but I just could not concentrate.
Finally, all the tests were run and decisions were made. She didn't have anything easily identifiable (no heart attack, no stroke, no low blood sugar or low blood pressure, no cranial injury), so we were allowed to leave the ER and travel to San Diego with the caveat that we keep a close watch on her (just try and stop me!) and follow up this week with a neurologist.
We ended up hitting all the spots we were scheduled (just a little bit out of order), and had to tell and re-tell the story each time. There was no good reason - she'd eaten; she wasn't highly excited; she didn't get up suddenly; she hadn't been running around like a crazy person; she's too young for it to be hormonal.
But for now, she's okay. I worry that this will hit me at some point in the next couple of days and I'll be a complete basket case. I worry that she'll have epilepsy and never be able to get her drivers' license (something she's already talking about!) But you know how they say that sometimes you need a smack upside the head with a 2x4 to realize how good you got it?
Okay, Powers That Be, I got it!