'Ain't That Just A Kick In The Head?'

I was listening to my newly set-up ipod and I discovered that song by Dean Martin on it. It's a cute song, and I love it, but I couldn't help but think to myself 'Wow. That would hurt!' As fate would have it, I was about to find out how much...

You see, on Valentines Day weekend, I told myself that I wasn't going to sit at home alone and hate my life like so many girls do. I was going to go out and do something that made being single fun! I did. I went country swing dancing. It was a great night, and I met several nice guys who came stag too. I was quite pleased with myself when I came home that night.
I was still under this spell when the next Saturday night rolled around. I wanted to relive that fun night and I thought I might meet up with some of the guys I met the week before. So, against all my friends' wishes I went dancing alone again.
This time it wasn't quite so promising. I didn't feel like the mood was as fun and as easy-going as it was last time. But I paid six bucks to get in, so by golly, I was going to get my money's worth! I started asking guys to dance, and I noticed this one guy who was clumped up against the wall with a bunch of his friends. I thought he was cute, and experience has led me to know that a grouping of guys like this meant that they were single and therefore safe. I asked him to dance and he smiled big at me, nervously. He led me out the dance floor and instantly started yanking me around like some kind of doll. He was over six feet and very well built, so I had a hard time putting up resistance. In country dancing, like all social dancing, it's important to stay tense with your partner, because looseness makes it hard for her to follow your lead. But this guy was like a charging rhino. He could tell that he was being a little rough on me, so he kept on apologizing. He told me he hadn't done this for a while. I found out later that 'while' meant two years. Yup. He was a freshly returned missionary. He told me he had just returned from his mission in Chile this past Tuesday. No wonder he was so uptight! Leave it to me to pick out the most scared guy on the dance floor!

I don't remember what happened next, I just know that I was coming out of some sort of spin, when WHAM! Something like an elbow hit me HARD on my face, right above my left eye. My body jammed up, my teeth clenched together hard. I remember seeing black and hearing a vague apology. I shook myself off and told him it was okay. And it should've been. I finished the dance with him and went off to find someone else to dance with. After a while I began to notice that I felt nauseous. I started dancing sluggishly, and couldn't respond in time like I should've. My head started to ache. Finally I gave up and decided to go home. I noticed that I was having a hard time walking and was feeling disoriented. When I came home, my room mate Judy noticed instantly that something was wrong. She had me elevate my feet and gave me a cold glass of water, but I didn't feel better. I went to bed early that night (by early I mean midnight) but not before I got a look at myself in the mirror and noticed that my eyes had dilated.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night and when my room mates went to church, I told them to go without me. When she came home Judy convinced me to go to the E.R. to have my head checked out. I made several phone calls but no one picked up, and since the hospital is only a block away from my house, I decided it wouldn't kill me to walk there. Well, that was relative. It was freezing outside, but I arrived at the E.R. without a hitch, and they actually got me in very quickly. The doctor was kind, but he didn't think there was much wrong with me. Because it was a head injury, he ordered for a CAT scan, just to be safe. After the scan he sent me back to my room and set me up with an I.V. that would inject anti-nausea anti- pain medicine. I sat there, hooked up to this I.V. for over an hour while I waited for the results of the CAT scan. All I wanted to do was sleep. Finally the doctor came in and told me yes, I had a minor concussion, but he didn't see anything too dangerous at this point. He told me to get some rest and sent me home with a single, piddling sleeping pill.

The pill worked for five hours, but when I woke up, I couldn't get back to sleep. Not only was I restless from the symptoms of the concussion, but my little jaunt to the hospital cost me dearly and I developed a cold. My nose ran like a faucet the entire night long. Obviously when I woke up, I wasn't feeling any better, but I thought I had to at least try to get to my classes. But when I looked in my mirror, I noticed that one of my pupils had dilated. I remembered that being one of the warning signs the doctor told me to look for, and sure enough, when I consulted the hospital, they told me to come back in. So, back out into the snow I went. I saw a different doctor this time. He looked like one of the Beatles with his shaggy hair and goatee. I felt instantly comfortable around him, and he and I were joking around in a matter of minutes. He made fun of me for going country dancing in the first place. I told him how I still felt sick and how I noticed my eyes were different. This doctor told me that the odds of a CAT scan missing something was like 1/1600. But, he was concerned that my neck may have been injured when I got hit, so he said we'd do a more in-depth CAT scan, this time injecting my blood with a solution called contrast, which which would dye my blood a certain color in the scans and make it easier to see the activity of the blood vessels in my brain. This turned out to be quite a trip. I'd never had a CAT scan before two days ago and I was apprehensive that it would be as bad as an MRI. It wasn't. It was quick and painless, like x-rays. However, the second time around, the contrast in my blood had this crazy effect on me. I felt heat rush through my veins, like a hot flash. I also felt like I was wetting myself. The technician warned me that I would feel this way, that it wasn't real, but I was alarmed at what a real sensation it was.

Once again I was sent back to my room to wait for the results. They didn't hook me up to any medication, but they left the contrast needle in me while I waited. This time around it was better because they let me watch T.V. There weren't very many stations, but I did manage to find the Cosby Show. Always a classic.

The doctor finally returned and told me he couldn't find anything wrong either, but he was concerned about my eyes freaking out, so he told me that he wanted me to be monitored through out the night. Have one of my room mates wake me up every couple of hours just to see how my brain is functioning. Then he asked me if I wanted a note for school and how long I felt I would need it. I ended up with a glorious get-out-of-school-free note for three days. Because he wanted me to be able to wake up easily, he didn't want to give me any heavy duty sleeping pills. I asked him if I could take something to ease my cold symptoms so I could sleep at night. Sure, he said. Benedril would be just fine! I headed home once again. I had to get to campus to talk to my teachers and buy medicine, so I gathered up my stuff and went to school. I found the medicine aisle in our little bookshop store, but I didn't see any night time Benedril. I did however, see Nyquil, and I figured it was probably the same stuff. I'd seen people get sloshed while on Nyquil before, but I thought that since I was small, it would just knock me out. The alcohol was supposed to put me to sleep. That night, I had a rip-roaring headache and a nose that wouldn't quit. I decided to take a couple of pills before I went to bed. Now I have had awful, restless nights in the past, but this one was a doozey. You see, when you can't sleep, your thoughts become confusing and frustrating and anxious and you're just sick of thinking. My thoughts stopped resembling thoughts. After a while I began to see literal sentences flash across my brain that looked like this:

>> cODElbjf8r475$^YSawtj i4tu9u49Help!n49r n&w3iv448kraken
<<

It was like I no longer had any grasp on English anymore, my thoughts were coming out like some kind of twisted computer code. And I knew, in a very hazy, slurred sort of way, that I was drunk. Sure enough, when I tried to lift myself up on to my elbows, I couldn't do it. I was too weak and I fell down in a slump. What surprised me is that it didn't feel good at all. Being drunk is supposed to be a relaxing, enjoyable feeling. I just felt dazed and bewildered. And what's more, it defeated the purpose! Yeah, my nose stopped running, but it started up again the moment I got out of bed. Plus I now had to deal the morning-after effects of drunkenness along with my cold and my concussion. It was an enlightening experience and I learned a lot:

1. No more of that Devil drug for me!
2. I can see where the term 'pink elephants' came from. Only mine were teal and they were sheep.
3. Because it made me cry, I've learned that I'm not a mean drunk, or a sweet drunk. I'm a sad drunk.
4. The morning after is NOT worth it.
5. I probably couldn't hold my liqueur very well if two gels caps are enough to take me out.

When Judy came to wake me up at 4:00 am, she could see that I'd had a rough night, and since we determined that my motor skills were up to par, relatively, she let me sleep for the rest of the night.

So there you have it. My girl-nite out turned out to be an adventure. I'm a little superstitious of Dean Martin songs now. I still like him, but I think I'm going to listen to songs about lovers in passionate embraces before I listen to anymore that mention head injuries