They Keep Telling Me It’s Not My Fault…

I made a spectacular splash several weeks back when my DH and I were out together. We donated blood at a local blood bank, which we like to do every eight weeks or so. It’s a small way to make a difference. As usual, we enjoyed a couple of cookies afterwards and my beloved kept plying me with water because I’d gotten a little woozy hours after giving the last time. From the blood bank, we went to do our weekly grocery shopping at an upscale grocery store in our area. Yes, there are such things as upscale grocery stores and not only is this the best in the area, but our beloved daughters both worked there as cashiers in their last years of high school and first years of college. We have a fondness for the place and we enjoy running errands together.

When we got to the store that day what with all the water my beloved had been giving me, I had to tinkle and went to the ladies room. Of course, there was a line. I began feeling weird while standing there waiting my turn. I actually squatted down–knowing I looked strange doing it–and when it was my turn, I straightened up and went into the stall.

The last thing I remember was pulling the door shut…

I came to consciousness a few minutes later sprawled on my back in the handicapped stall, a wonderful woman bending over me. (I looked for her name later to call her and thank her, but the store personnel hadn’t gotten her name.) As I lie there, groggy and unfocused on the hard tile floor of bathroom stall, the woman told me she’d heard my head hit the floor and had crawled under the stall door to help me, bless her. Naturally, the store personnel had been notified of my spectacular display and were in a flurry to help. They offered to call an ambulance. I just wanted to talk to my DH. My rescuer helped me fish my cell phone out of my purse and I called him to come into the ladies restroom.

That eveninRoger on Cycleg, I passed an unpleasant few hours spending way too much money on a CAT scan of my head. Beloved ER Doc daughter was working an ER in London, advising us by phone. When she told me that with my symptoms, she get a CAT scan of a patient’s head, I acquiesced.

Everyone at the ER she sent me to (not a “doc in the box”) was very nice and I didn’t have a brain bleed–her biggest concern. I did have a knot on my head, a concussion and an ER bill I asked my DH not to show me. I also felt like an idiot. My DH was wonderful. (See photo on cycle. Isn’t he hot?) He took such good care of me. My daughter and a close family friend–also a physician–said I’ve given blood for the last time, but this seems extreme to me. I think I should just do it less often.

Everyone keeps telling me this crazy moment wasn’t my fault, but I sure feel stupid.

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