Here's the pic I snapped of our Thursday-morning men's group enjoying breakfast at IHOP this morning.
Here's the pic I snapped of my hospital bracelet at Bethesda North emergency room where I went for treatment after slipping on the ice after breakfast and cracking my head on the restaurant parking lot.
Here's the schedule they posted in my office when I returned to work late this morning.
The rest of the story: I don't remember falling. I just remember putting my hand on the back of my head where it hit and coming away with a bloody palm. "Oh, I have to wash my hand," I think I said. So I went into the restaurant restroom, and a couple of the guys were still there talking.
"Mark, are you alright?" I had folded up some paper towel and was holding it over the cut.
Dave Kruger took my arm and led me back to my car, and Brad Comerford started quizzing me. "I think we should go to the Urgent Care," he said. I followed him in my car. But when we got there, it was closed. (Doesn't open till 10!)
"You know, Brad, I don't really remember what happened,"I said, which wasn't entirely accurate. But, driving to the Urgent Care, I was trying to remember details, like you try to remember details of a dream after you've awakened.
"Let me drive you to the ER," he said. (He told me later I had him really concerned.) So I locked my car and hopped into his. He called his wife who called Evelyn. She met us at the hospital, after I had been admitted. Bless him--his help was really a big help.
They put five staples in the wound at the top of my head and I got an X-ray which confirmed I don't have a concussion.
But I've been headachey all afternoon and evening, and I have a sore rear end (don't know if it hit first or second).
I'm very grateful it wasn't worse . . . and VERY grateful I didn't break a wrist or arm or anything else!
Quotes of the Day:
Conversation overheard from the adjacent examining room in the ER. This was about 8:00 a.m. today. The patient was a big guy, an older guy. He'd come in because he was short of breath and he needed a breathing treatment.
Doctor: Are you still smoking?
Patient: No, I quit.
Doctor: When did you quit?
Patient: Yesterday.
Doctor: When was your last cigarette?
Patient: 10 o'clock last night.
Yeah, and I had quit drinking coffee. My last cup was about 7:00 this morning.
Your Thursday AM group ate? Ate at a restaurant? No wonder you fell over in the parking lot. I'm surprised that a fissure in the earth's crust didn't ripple through the parking lot and swallow your car! I thought this group of stoic ascetics wouldn't even indulge in coffee in the get-up-before-God early morning meeting time. Now they do breakfast?! If you hadn't captured the gluttons with a pic, I'd think you were delusional from head trauma, but I recognize at least three of the foodies chowing down. I did take note that not one bowl of oatmeal, plain, or one yogurt on the table. I just can't believe it. They ate . . . at IHOP, of all places.
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