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knocked out: part two
posted Thursday, 28 July 2005
Wednesday was a humid 95 degrees and we had practice, so I planned ahead. I drank water all day and brought bottles with me to the rink and was sure I was keeping myself hydrated. And not only because it felt like a hundred degrees out; I was also fighting off allergies. Allergies I'd never had until this year, when the dust or pollen or secret evil fairies spread their dust and made my head ache and my nose itch. I popped a 12-hour Benadrixoral-type thing at 8am and it kept me doped up and tired, but functional, until 8pm.
We skated and it was hot and sticky and almost unbearable, but we beared it and stepped out into the cool night air and let the slight breeze (cooler now that a rain had fallen) dry our skin. I drank more water. We hit the subway and an hour later I was home. Tired, but feeling okay. I didn't eat anything, but had another glass of water and decided to take another 12-hour Benasudaoral-thing and, hopefully, it would knock me out and I'd sleep for eight hours and wake up refreshed.
This is what happened instead:
I woke up at 2am, sweating as though I was in a sauna, with a fierce pounding at the base of my skull. The most amazing, painful headache I'd ever had, including migraines. I gulped down more water and tried to go back to sleep, but the bottle was empty and my head was unbearable and so I got up to refill the bottle and try to cool down. I went into the bathroom first, but within 30 seconds my stomach started lurching and I felt a wave of naseau hit me and I thought "I've got to get back to bed right now." And that's the last thing I remember.
Sometime later (10 minutes? 20?) I woke up and couldn't figure out where I was. Someplace cool, and hard, with my leg and arm splayed out at awkward angles. When I moved my head up it brushed against steel, and when I tried to stand up my stomach lurched again. I was on the floor. The kitchen floor. At least ten steps from the bathroom, which I didn't remember walking out of. Somehow I'd stumbled over to the kitchen counter before completely blacking out, hitting my head and chin and shoulder against the cabinents and metal chair as I fell. I stood up fully, grabbed the empty bottle off the counter and the water filter out of the fridge, and hurled myself back to my room and bed. I lay down and waited for the room to stop spinning. My head throbbed and my jaw ached. I put a finger to my temple and it came away slick with blood. I started feeling queasy again and decided to ignore it. I was already terrified enough as it was. (It would be another 30 minutes before I'd realize my chin was bleeding too, non-stop, and the next morning before I found the small puddle of blood on the floor). The clock read 2:30, which meant I'd probably been lying unconscious on my kitchen floor for 20 minutes. It was 2:30 in the morning and I had no one to call, no one to shout for who would come running and clean my wounds and kiss my bruises and hold me tight and say it would be okay and watch to make sure that I woke up in the morning. It was 2:30 in the morning, and there was no way I was going to chance sleep. I took deep breaths and calmed myself and let my favorite songs run through my head and drifted off for ten minutes at a time, always waking to check on the progress of the clock, always happy that I was awake again.
This afternoon I went to the doctor who asked me questions and ran response tests and checked my blood pressure and pulled out a giant EKG machine and hooked me up to electrodes, just to make sure. Everything was fine, it was probably a combination of Benadrixafed and humidity and dehydration, but if I started feeling worse over the next few days, to give her a call. "You had a hard fall, so you'll be a little out of it for a few days. Take it easy," she said. I happily agreed. My fears (mainly) assuaged, I thanked her, paid my bill, and left... standing in the elevator for a full minute before I remembered to press the "L" button.
Here's hoping there's no permanent damage.
And that, alone or not, I never have this experience again.
We skated and it was hot and sticky and almost unbearable, but we beared it and stepped out into the cool night air and let the slight breeze (cooler now that a rain had fallen) dry our skin. I drank more water. We hit the subway and an hour later I was home. Tired, but feeling okay. I didn't eat anything, but had another glass of water and decided to take another 12-hour Benasudaoral-thing and, hopefully, it would knock me out and I'd sleep for eight hours and wake up refreshed.
This is what happened instead:
I woke up at 2am, sweating as though I was in a sauna, with a fierce pounding at the base of my skull. The most amazing, painful headache I'd ever had, including migraines. I gulped down more water and tried to go back to sleep, but the bottle was empty and my head was unbearable and so I got up to refill the bottle and try to cool down. I went into the bathroom first, but within 30 seconds my stomach started lurching and I felt a wave of naseau hit me and I thought "I've got to get back to bed right now." And that's the last thing I remember.
Sometime later (10 minutes? 20?) I woke up and couldn't figure out where I was. Someplace cool, and hard, with my leg and arm splayed out at awkward angles. When I moved my head up it brushed against steel, and when I tried to stand up my stomach lurched again. I was on the floor. The kitchen floor. At least ten steps from the bathroom, which I didn't remember walking out of. Somehow I'd stumbled over to the kitchen counter before completely blacking out, hitting my head and chin and shoulder against the cabinents and metal chair as I fell. I stood up fully, grabbed the empty bottle off the counter and the water filter out of the fridge, and hurled myself back to my room and bed. I lay down and waited for the room to stop spinning. My head throbbed and my jaw ached. I put a finger to my temple and it came away slick with blood. I started feeling queasy again and decided to ignore it. I was already terrified enough as it was. (It would be another 30 minutes before I'd realize my chin was bleeding too, non-stop, and the next morning before I found the small puddle of blood on the floor). The clock read 2:30, which meant I'd probably been lying unconscious on my kitchen floor for 20 minutes. It was 2:30 in the morning and I had no one to call, no one to shout for who would come running and clean my wounds and kiss my bruises and hold me tight and say it would be okay and watch to make sure that I woke up in the morning. It was 2:30 in the morning, and there was no way I was going to chance sleep. I took deep breaths and calmed myself and let my favorite songs run through my head and drifted off for ten minutes at a time, always waking to check on the progress of the clock, always happy that I was awake again.
This afternoon I went to the doctor who asked me questions and ran response tests and checked my blood pressure and pulled out a giant EKG machine and hooked me up to electrodes, just to make sure. Everything was fine, it was probably a combination of Benadrixafed and humidity and dehydration, but if I started feeling worse over the next few days, to give her a call. "You had a hard fall, so you'll be a little out of it for a few days. Take it easy," she said. I happily agreed. My fears (mainly) assuaged, I thanked her, paid my bill, and left... standing in the elevator for a full minute before I remembered to press the "L" button.
Here's hoping there's no permanent damage.
And that, alone or not, I never have this experience again.