I bruised my forehead and it wasn't on the headboard, despite my new hair color, and my new found raciness.
Sometimes, having a doctor in the house serves no purpose. Either he isn't around when I need him the most or he is home, but ignores my cries for help. It seems we need to change our distress calls from "OWWW!", "RATS!", "AHHH!", "CRAP!", and "SHEET!" to a phrase which begins with "CODE".
This past weekend I even joked about it with Doc H. I told him I was seriously considering calling the phone number on the TV as we were laughing a Life Alert "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" commercial. I was only half joking, as I reminded him of the time I fell going up the stairs as I carried clean laundry. I hit my head on the wall adjacent to the landing and heard and felt something snap, crackle and pop in my neck and head.
I laid on the landing and watched as the little canaries and bright yellow stars circled my head. They were pretty and the canaries had a melodic, but piercing chirp. I was concerned. If I could not get up, I would lay there all day long. It was only 9am; it would be a long wait for Doc H to return home. If I was lucky he'd be home by 8pm. If I wasn't lucky and actually broke my neck, he'd find me dead on the stairs when he got home and wouldn't have a hot dinner ready and waiting for him. I think he'd be bummed out about that.
For crying out loud! My dog wasn't even home to help out by barking and summoning a neighbor. In my mind, I was screwed.
Thank goodness I regained my wits, was able to get up and make it to the bed to recuperate. I left the laundry scattered on the staircase.
So, it should come as no surprise that my latest forehead blemish came as I was bent over sorting dirty laundry. Dam laundry room door! It hurt worse than the time I had to tear duct tape off both my nipples. I screamed and....nothing. No "Are you okay?" "What happened?" or "Do you need help?"Nothing.
Next time, I'm yelling "Code Blue!" If that doesn't send him running, I'm placing an order with Life Alert.