First things first:
I'm exhausted - a consequence of trauma-induced shock - weepy, and a bit befuddled, but I'm OK. No, really. I am. The wound is healing nicely, it isn't raised or puffed up at all, and the stitches come out tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, after a few days, it'll just look like Vinny got really mad or incredibly frisky and scratched the hell outta me. That's a whole lot better than having to tell people I decided to use a broken wineglass for a pillow.
Acr0nym stopped by with Spux in tow yesterday evening to take a few pictures and eat my cheese. Both of them were amazed at the skill of the ER staff who stitched me up. I must confess, after having seen Acr0nym's professional pictures, I'm encouraged. I'll post a picture of my face once the stitches come out. I'm confident that will be alright.
Test results and subsequent consults with my doctor have taken place. My doctor is convinced there is nothing wrong with me a lot of water and a good deal of rest can't fix. Verdict: dehydration, exhaustion, and remnants of the upper respiratory infection I've been battling were the culprits. It's still unclear whether or not I fainted or simply fell asleep. Both are possible. Regardless, I've had no additional episodes and should be cleared to drive by the time I have to go back to work at the office on Monday.
As an aside: I kinda feel like a celebrity with that exhaustion diagnosis. Isn't that what all celebrities check into rehab for? Exhaustion? It sounds so glamorous. Although...perhaps it would have been more glamorous if I'd been doing whip-its...which I wasn't.
Fame. You elude me once again.
I want all my blog friends to know I've been slowly but surely catching up with you and all your writings. Several of you have been posting daily - that's what happens when y'all sign up for NaBloPoMo - and I've been reading every single word. I know you'll understand that I haven't had the energy or brain power to comment on every post. I am reading though and I appreciate every single kind word you've left for me in your blogs, on my blog, and in the personal e-mails I've received. If I've inadvertently left an incoherent comment that seems to make absolutely no sense, please know my intentions were good.
I want to mention just how amazing it feels to have an incredible group of friends I've never met to add to the love and support of the people I can recognize on the street. This internet thingy is pretty cool.
I also want all my friends with street recognition to know how much I appreciate all the offers for assistance. While the majority of my needs were met quite handily by one tuckered out Lex, just knowing I have my bases covered if I need it is a humbling experience. Thank you.
I have to confess something. Over the last couple of days, I've attempted to minimize this experience to myself, to others. I've tried to make it seem as though this is No Big Deal and felt as though I should be back at my desk at work, working on the podcast (I swear! It really is coming!), writing every day, reading and commenting on 130+ blogs, falling in major like, running a household, and nurturing everyone around me. But this IS a big deal. Not the scar. That's not a big deal in the larger scheme of things. The message is the big deal - the life-altering event. I had this experience precisely because I have not been taking care of myself. Because I've been burning every candle I own with a blow torch, going full steam ahead even though I knew I was tired, knew I was sick, knew I was practically out of gas, and, most importantly, know I've got chronic fatigue even though I love to deny deny deny.
I am a cautionary tale of what can happen when a person forgets to eat, poo-poos the idea of a full night's sleep, and who, even though she knows way better after having lived at altitude her entire life, thinks water is a last resort for thirst quenching. I've never been quite this girl - this poster child for teetering on the brink of health disaster - at least, not quite in this controllable way.
What happened IS a big deal. And I will not minimize it. I will not turn away sympathy but I want each and every one of you to know I did this to myself. I am both perpetrator and victim. This was every bit my fault. I didn't listen to myself. I didn't listen to Lex. I didn't do what I knew was right because I was too busy putting my energies into everything except my own health.
Don't be like me. Take care of yourself. Even if you have to let something else that seems important go.
PS Here's a very special shout out to my long time friend and former co-worker, Dole: Dude, you've had one hell of a hard year. I can understand and appreciate your desire to minimize what you've been through. But remember, you are important and what you've gone through is HUGE. You have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your dad, for the loss of the life you'd thought you'd built. Hang in there, my friend, and take care. It will get better.