The complete klutz

I started this post about 2 mos ago, drafted it and then forgot about it. Little background is now needed. This story relates to the incidents at the MO show in which my dear friend Rus ended up knocking his noggin on an "I" beam in the grooming area, not just once, but several times. I ended up showing his special as he couldn't see through the fog. Many of you know that my very handsome husband of almost 2 decades has been suffering from PCS for about 4 years now. Post Concussion Syndrome. So now I need to back up and relate the story of the headache cause....

We recently(4 years ago) built a new house out in the Black Hole area of Linn County, IA. Previously we lived in town. Small suburban area that lays between the imaginary line seperating Marion and Cedar Rapids. Now, I hate living in town. The noise, the lights, the neighbors, well most neighbors. On top of it, I am claustorphobic and lasted 7 years living elbow to elbow with the rest of Marion. Mom said she was shocked I lasted 5 let alone the 7 long years. So now picture a small 3 bedroom ranch, built about 1965-yes the brown oven and avocado fridge were still there when we moved in-those didn't last long! Anyway, as time went on, things as they do, need repair. For instance my bed. Okay, get your mind out of the gutter right now! Here's the way you describe it and then how it really needs to be said.


David got his concussion from the bed post hitting him in the head. When in fact, here's the whole story. My old bed had seen many a child use it as a trampoline. That was it's undoing. Yes one too many kids, a couple of dogs and what do I do, just sit on the edge of the bed, thunk. Yeapers, I broke the side rail and ended up on the floor along with the mattress. So the various parts of the bed get leaned up against the wall and the side board goes down to the work shop for repair. Mattress and springs are on the floor and that's where we slept for a few nights.

Hope, the couch slug of a labrador that we own, or is it she owns us is used to sleeping in bed with us. At the time of this whole incident, the bed was a full sized bed. There's a cartoon called the Buckets and one of my favorite has a frame that says BD, the next says AD. I'll try to add it later so you can see it, but that stands for Before Dog and the couple is snuggling in bed, AD is After Dog and the dog is right inbetween with the couple now seperated, trying to stay on the bed. Just so happens that this time, she's sleeping on David's side of the bed, but on the floor. My guess is that she stood up and in the process knocked the head board, which in turn started to fall.

The next thing I hear is David swearing and sitting bolt upright in bed. The dog is running out of the room as fast as she can. I sit up and try to find out what's going on between the swearing and arm waving. The round knobs on the head board connected with his temple. Concusion, yes that's right, he got a concusion from the head board on the bed. See why I have to tell the whole story and not just the abridged version? Only gets worse, per David. I keep asking him if he's hurt or bleeding or what ever. Between swearing and swatting my hands away, I can't get a straight answer out of him. Getting no cooperation from the hurt person, I ask one final question-are you bleeding? No. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Three rules growing up in our house. If you had to call mom or dad at work, you had either be dead, not breathing or spurting blood all over. Otherwise, it could wait till I got home. Of course that backfired when I came home to find all the bandaids used up one day on a cut finger. I have my limits of pointless phone calls-he's looking at me wrong, he locked me out of the bathroom or she's playing her music too loud. I will be thankful that the worst that happened while I was at work was the papertowel fight. Wet ones at that. That was a clean up job-I think they used 2-3 rolls of papertowels and I wouldn't have noticed except for the ones on the ceiling that dropped on my head later that evening. Still finding them when we were painting the house and getting ready to sell it.

During the rest of the week, David only gets worse. He was forgetting numbers, names, hard time focusing. Went to the emergency clinic, then to the ER for xrays. Nothing, take it easy, few days off and then just watch it. By Thursday, I had to go get him at work as he about passed out walking to his car to drive himself to the ER. Diagnoised him with Post Concusion Syndrome. Basically if you get knocked in the head, you want to black out. Otherwise, the brain does funny things. They likened it to a surge protector and the automatic shut off when a power surge happens. The brain works similar to that. Once again, he was instructed to take time off work, I think he figured out it was easier to obey the dr's orders this time around. The following weekend was a fun one, with a confused husband, the dog show and a group of handlers who just happen to be nurses, telling him what he needs to do. I think that was the last time he went to a show with me ;0)

Now PCS can last from 1 mo to 10 years. We still see signs of it when he gets really tired-little droop in his left eye, can't get the sentence out quite right. Hoping that as time progresses it gets better. Makes me wonder how all those football players manage game after game.

Okay, for my part in this, I guess I should relate my head injury story. Let's face it, I am a Klutz. Tried the 12 step program, didn't work. I came out of the closet about 25 years ago, so I chose to not hide it from anyone. I attend or attempt to attend regular meetings of KA(Klutz Anonymous)-that is if I don't open the door on my face, fall up the stairs or miss the chair and fall on the floor.

Last night, sitting on top of Marg's crate was the battery charger and the cordless drill. The drill was sitting upright, facing the front of the crate. Been there for days. Has a screw driver bit in it at the moment. Yes, I know you are figuring this out and picturing it already. Bent over to put Marg's food in her crate and wack! Divot in my forehead from the bit. Lump, bruise (I bruise really easily) and man did I chew out a certain hubby. He of course ran for cover then had the nerve to compare it to the concussion incident and wondered how I was going to explain this one away.

I have a headache this morning and a phillips head mark on my forehead......

Later gators......
C