Wake-Up Call

(Original posting date 1/11/08)

Lesson Learned
Current mood: ashamed
Category: Life

My December 9 blog mentioned one way to tell if you had too much to drink/smoke the night before. (Answer: Setting your bangs on fire) As of today, I know the 1 way to tell that you need to stop drinking, 100%, on the wagon, farewell drunkety, booze-be-gone. Answer: Giant bloody gaping head wound.

Giant bloody gaping head wounds occur when one has imbibed several too many beverages and attempts to descend a flight of stairs. The spouse of the stupid drunk, who is downstairs minding his own business, hears "Thumpity-thumpity-thumpity-CRASH" followed by, "Ooooooooooouch."

Of course I'm taking his word for it, because I have absolutely no recollection of the entire evening.

He says that I eventually made it the rest of the way downstairs (I had crashed going from the living room to the entry way), but neither of us realized at that time that I was seriously injured. I'm brunette, and blood just doesn't show up. It wasn't until some time later when I commented that my hands were sticky and we were horrified to discover that they were covered in blood. Again, I'm taking his word for this. I still have no memory of the evening. Apparently, smashing one's head on a ceramic tile entry way floor can cause injury. Who knew?

I guess I wasn't too worried about it, or decided it had stopped bleeding or something, because the first memory I have is of waking up at 12:30 AM and heading to the bathroom, wondering what the HELL I had done to my hair. From the top and clear down the right side of my head, it was stiff and crunchy and matted in a tangled mess. I mentioned this fact to Tom, who said, "Lor, that's BLOOD." Oh. Yeah, now that you mention it, it really fucking hurts! Back to bed.

This morning, I had to wash the caked, crusty blood from my hair so I could go to work. It took a LONG time. I did not, however, believe it was still bleeding. (Though it did still really fucking hurt) I couldn't see the injury, so had no idea how bad it was. I manage a veterinary hospital, and decided I'd have the doctor look at it when I got there, and see if maybe I needed a teensy tiny stitch or something. While driving to the clinic, I raised my hand to gingerly probe the area, only to discover, "Yep, still bleeding. That can't be good."

When I got to work, explained my dilemma to my friend the vet, and she lifted my hair to check it out, she shrieked, "Oh my fucking god!"

That can't be good, either.

It seems I have an approximately 2" long crescent shaped GASH in my head, which was gaping open, making it look like a big fat crescent moon. Attractive. (Not) And incredibly painful. I did mention the pain, right? Stuff was visible that should not typically be visible, because it's supposed to be covered with skin and hair. I don't know if she could see my actual skull, but if there were any brains in it, they are probably still lying in the puddle of blood in my entry way. (Just kidding, I cleaned up the giant blood-puddle. There were no brains in it.) Plans were made for her to clipper a significant portion of my head, shoot it full of Lidocaine, and stitch me back together. Then she got thinking about such things as bacteria leaking into my brain. If it is still in my head. I know it's not in the entry way, but since I have no memory of the evening, I could've left it somewhere else. Obviously I wasn't USING it or anything. In the end, we decided it would be best if I went to Urgent Care and got patched up in a more official way.

Did you know that if you have a huge gaping head wound, it should be stitched up in less than 12 hours? I didn't. Since it was slightly longer than that since my cranium cracked on the ceramic tile, she couldn't close it tightly due to the additional bacteria that had undoubtedly set up shop in there in the intervening hours.

Good news: She didn't have to shave my head. This is doubly good, because I'd just paid a butt-load of bucks for my excellent new color (Thanks, Jolene). Plus, I don't own any hats.

Bad news: Lidocaine injections HURT, but not as much as getting your head stitched back together without it. Or so I assume. Otherwise, they probably wouldn't bother.

I am now the proud owner (OK, shameful owner) of five nifty stitches. The doctor said if she'd been stitching it clear closed, as she would have if I'd come right in after it happened, it would have taken about a dozen.

On continued reflection, it is clear that I have to stop drinking altogether. I really am lucky all I did was rip a giant bloody hole in my scalp. I could have killed myself. And what a STUPID fucking way to die. If you own stock in any wineries, you might want to sell them. Soon. Because I predict a big recession about to strike the industry.