Oscar, our ten year old Lhasa Apso, stays downstairs all night to “protect us” when Matt is out of town. He does this by sporadically barking his goddamn head off at all hours of the night.
“I’m protectin’ y’all!”
Which is why, at 3:30 in the morning, I found myself going downstairs to let him out so he would shut the fuck up.
For 98% of my descent, I was golden, sticking the landing on each step like Kerri fucking Strug. But where the stairwell takes a right-turn for two more steps into our living room, I got tripped up on my socks and fell, face first, onto the hardwood floor. And in a two-stair interval, there’s not really time to brace your fall with your hands. So I braced it WITH MY NOSE. And that, my friends, is what the clichéd “sickening crunch” sounds like.
If the kids had been awake, they would have heard some choice words. Words like “motherfucker.” And other words that sounded a lot like “motherfucker.” In fact, “motherfucker” was uttered over and over again. Because kids learn best by repetition, people.
The pain made me nauseous, and as I lifted my head to vomit, I realized I was face-down in a growing pool of my own blood. Not caring, I threw up and placed my face back in the pool, waiting to die.
Then I heard a noise. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
And I remembered why I had come downstairs in the first place: To let the damn dog out. And since I am nothing if not task-oriented, I pulled myself up and dripped blood across the living room, dining room, kitchen, and mudroom to open the back door.
I moved to the freezer and grabbed a package of frozen blueberries, which would be my constant companion for the next three hours. Dizzy with pain, I sank face-down onto the blueberries, waiting to die.
It occurred to me about ten minutes in that I should be soaking up some of the still-flowing blood with a towel, but the only one in reach was the decorative towel on the stove, WHICH SHALL NEVER BE TOUCHED. So I dripped back through the kitchen, the mudroom, and into the laundry room closet to open a new roll of paper towels.
I wondered if I needed emergency help and how on earth I would handle this. OK kids! Let’s get up in the middle of the night while mommy drives erratically to the ER, where you will sit for hours like statues on your best behavior and not worry! If I called someone, they’d need to have TWO available people: One to save me, one to cover my kids. I decided to wait instead until daylight. Two more hours.
Around 4:30 I realized I could stand again. I also realized that the house looked like a CSI set and that no way could I let the kids wake up to a bloodbath. So I bleached and wiped, bleached and wiped: The floors, the counters, the cabinets, the washer, the back door. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and my first thought was not of my bloodied and swelling nose, but that my eyebrows were OUT OF CONTROL.
My blueberries and I fired up the laptop and went immediately to WebMD, where I determined I had a major concussion and was about to die. I texted my friend Katie at 6:16 with my plight, begging for help. I also apparently dialed her and then walked away, leaving her to wonder if I had been murdered. She agreed to come and help get the girls off and me to the ER in the morning.
But morning came, the girls awoke, and I’m all REED GIRLS DON’T NEED NO HELP! Besides, in a crisis, Astrid takes charge like a grown-up. Akeyla was freaked out by the sight of my nose, and me telling her it was broken, I needed x-rays, etc. Astrid pulled me aside:
Astrid: Mom, you’re scaring her. You need to talk to her in her own language.
Astrid (to Akeyla, in perfect preschool teacher voice): It’s OK, Key, mommy just has a boo-boo, like you got at the lake, remember? But hers is bigger, so she needs a nice doctor to put her band-aid on, but she’ll be all better!
I hate when my kid parents better than I do.
Off we went, Akeyla dropped at preschool, Astrid dropped at Critter Camp at the animal rescue, me to the doctor.
He’s all “I need to manipulate the nose” and I’m thinking, I could have brought my kids along to do that by whining and asking it for snacks, but then he started touching it and the word “motherfucker” was uttered again.
Then he gets a serious look on his face. “Are you safe at home?” he asks in a gentle voice.
And I’m thinking, well obviously not. THAT’S WHERE THE STAIRS ARE.
Then I realized he thought Matt had beat me so I’m all “Oh, my husband has an alibi.” Which I later realized might not be the least incriminating way I could have told him Matt was out of town.
After x-rays, I was diagnosed with a small, clean fracture and probably a mild concussion, the treatment for which is: NOTHING.
Girl, you have GOT to get those eyebrows UNDER CONTROL.
When I finally got home, ready to collapse into bed with my new best friend, a bag of frozen edamame, I had another friend waiting for me. Man’s best, if you will, standing at the back door, tail wagging, wanting to go out.
So I let the damn dog out.
ohhhhhhmygawddddddddd. Only you could make this horrific span of events an ‘I’m going to wet myself laughing’ post. Oh, sweetie. What a mess. Thank you for sharing the whole story with us (although your tweets were f’ing awesome too). I hope you heal quickly, my friend!!!
Oh. My. Gravy. I would totally sympathize with you right now but I’m too busy trying to stem the river of pee threatening to burst free from my uncontrollable laughter. I swear, I’m laughing WITH you not at you. Bahahahahahaha!
Seriously, I just emailed this to my BFF and said “What happened to her totally sucks, but when she gets to the part about the doctor asking if she is safe at home I burst out laughing.”
So, yeah, you can certainly make a crappy story really really funny!!
This is both the funniest and most horrible thing I’ve ever read. Some day we’ll have a nice chat about priorities and fancy kitchen towels. Hope your boo boo gets better soon!
You are always the most beautiful person inside and out.
AW, Sarah!!!
It is impossible to NOT love you. You’re back! Funny, irreverent amazing you. Be gentle, please. You’re fan club needs you (beginning of course with the dog…)
xoxo back at you!
You rock, Cindy! And I love the ending!
Cindy,
Have you written a book? If so, I want an autographed copy. You are one hell of a writer. I look forward to reading every blog you write. Sorry about the broken nose, but this was one, damn funny blog. Keep up the good work.
Dan C.
OH god not a book! I can doo 500 – 1000 words at a time, Dan. So glad you are reading, dear high school friend!!
Good golly you’ve had a heckuva week. I hope that you are feeling better soon and that bedtime goes better tonight.
My dog caused me to fall down the steps and bruise the heck out of my forearm once. I was at the doc for something else (my yearly “fun” exam) and was questioned, too. I said, “I’m fine. I’m the one with the blue belt, not hubby.”
I feel a tad bit guilty about laughing so hard at your fall, but damn this was funny! You really do need to write a book! XOXO!
First post I have read of yours. Hilarious! Sorry for your pain but you are wonderful at telling the story.
Thanks so much for stopping by, newbie!!
I found this post via Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Momma (who really needs to shorten her Blog title, LOL!) and while I am so sorry you had to go through this, I need to thank you for making me laugh so hard my face hurts (though, probably not as much as yours)….I actually needed to give myself a moment to catch my breath before I could even type this, I was in such a state. I hope you heal well, and…stay safe.
She really does need to shorten that. Glad to make you laugh
You did this on purpose, didn’t you, just for a great blog post. When blogging goes too far!
Yes, who knows what I’ll “cause” to happen this weekend for material…
Hey darlin’, I’m happy to come over with some homeopathy- really helps with the swelling and pain, and speeds healing. Feel free to call anytime: (828)242-6594
You are too sweet!!
Oh my word…hysterical. Yet painful. And I’m glad your husband has an “alibi”!!!
You make me laugh out loud. Except – for real. Like – Dan gives me funny looks as I try to explain, But she said Matt had an alibi!
I’m speechless. Will you have black eyes? I ALMOST broke my entire face a month or two ago when I tripped and picked up speed as I fell flat out on the sidewalk. My hat saved me. I blogged about it, but I’m not going to pimp it because this is YOUR injury; I already had mine. Glad you’re okay and Astrid ROCKS.
Oh you can always pimp out your stuff in my comments. Maybe we could do a face-plant injury round-up.
well at least you got a good blog out of it !!! seriously… you did!
Yikes! I, too, am scared to find out where you’ll go next for blog inspiration. Amputation?
Hmmm, ideas….
Awesome! I mean not awesome. Terrible thing to happen. Broken a nose myself (it was mine) so I know how much it hurts. But you’re a trooper! Don’t sneeze, whatever you do. “my husband has an alibi” is where I loved you the most. Awesomr writing.
This was the best blog post I’ve read all week, bar none. I literally have tears in my eyes, partly in sympathy to your pain, partly from laughing so hard at your style (both the writing AND the pirouette off the staircase!) and partly at how sweet your elder daughter was in handling the situation with your youngest. Thank you for sharing, brave woman!
Damn Dogs. I feel ya. Hope you recover quickly. And might I add how amazing you are. Cleaning up the blood before your kids woke… I couldn’t have done it. You are a trooper.
OH my god. That is my worst nightmare, next to the kids getting hurt of course. You are one tough broad to have survived hours without help. Holy Crow! And as much as the bleeding nose no doubt hurt, your storytelling of course, made it amusing and fun to read.
i hope you heal quickly!
OK, so I’ve absolved myself of guilt because I was laughing out loud – only because I knew yesterday you were ok, even though it was only just now that I got the full scoop on your comment, “I fell”………hahahahahaha! Sorry, really – but to be truthful, had I seen this in person, I would have immediately leaped to your aide (while trying desperately not to laugh because we Tomlinson women have this “laugh-when-someone-gets-hurt gene” that is now going into its fifth generation!).
This was so awesome. I think my favorite parts are the free use of profanity (totally appropriate under the circumstances) and your grumpy photo at the end. Loved it!
How am I not getting your new posts straight to my inbox, despite attempting to subscribe?! I needed to read this immediately as it would have completely made my day.
Cindy that sucks! I am so glad you’re okay. You even had the willpower to spare the fancy towels! You have got to be super woman. Sending hugs and hopes that you feel better soon.:)
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Oh man! I *did* break my foot on some stairs. It sucked. I watch the way my 8yo flies down the steps and wonder why I can’t do that anymore?
“THAT’S WHERE THE STAIRS ARE!” – my favorite part of this horrific hilarious tale. Though the moment of knowing you’re really hurt and your children are just rooms away is the real chiller. Sorry it happened; glad you’re a writer.
You called me a writer!! (Gasp. Insecurities showing.)
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