Yesterday was kind of a strange day. One of those days where I was puttering about, getting some things done around the house, running to the grocery store, and spending time with Noodle.
I didn't realize I hadn't eaten anything at all except coffee until about 6 p.m.
So I did what I always do...cut a few slices of cheese and served them to myself with a side of cracked pepper Triscuits and sat down at my computer with a glass of wine to write.
I was not drunk.
I was listening to the final edit of the podcast and then drafting a blog entry while e-mailing back and forth with Noodle who, by then, was working. I was reading a response from him, in fact, wine glass in hand...at least, that's the last thing I remember doing.
The next thing I knew, I heard the sound of breaking glass, opened my eyes, and realized I was slumped over in my chair, the remnants of the shattered glass still in my hand. Blood flowing down my chest. At first, I didn't understand what had happened. I tossed the wine glass into the trash can and went into the bathroom to see if I could figure out the source of blood.
It was my face. It looked kinda bad.
I called and called for Lex. He came in, took one look, and bundled me up to take me to the emergency room. I was lucid - remained lucid the rest of the night. I was able to e-mail Noodle before I left to tell him where I was going and why. I was able to text Acr0nym to tell him I needed him.
The hospital isn't far from here. Lex got me checked in and then went out to park his car and wait for Acr0nym who wasn't far away. Pretty soon, I was resting comfortably in an exam room with Lex, Acr0nym, and Spux - the official 3rd non-husband - who was with Acr0nym when he received my text.
The doctor ordered an EKG and blood work and x-rays to make sure there was no glass in the laceration.
When Mary, the radiologist, wheeled me back into my exam room, there was Noodle too. And I felt very very loved surrounded by these four. Even though they were all Han Solo'ing me when I told them I loved them and each one just said, "I know".
All my tests were normal. No heart problems, blood pressure good, pulse ox good, blood work normal. No explanation about why I might have passed out. They kept asking me if I was pregnant *sigh*. Nope. Not even a possibility. One PA asked me, "With all these amazing men doting on you, there's not even a slight chance of pregnancy?" I laughed. Nope. Not even a little.
They took before pictures - after they rinsed out the laceration. They measured it - 8 1/2 cm. It took 27 stitches to close.
Then they sent me home with my Lex and my Noodle who have both taken very good care of me. Lex is, right now, making me bacon and eggs.
I'm shaken up and I'm scared. I don't have any answers.
What I do have is 27 neatly sewn stitches prominently displayed along the left hand side of my Frankenstein face with assurances that it will, indeed, scar and something going on that's causing me to faint like goats.
I don't know what more to say.
So I'm going to go eat some bacon and eggs and snuggle up to Noodle who is warm and thinks I'm beautiful - even with a scarred face.
Nothing but sippy cups from now on.