The Mind Is Such a Creative Creature

The Old Broad Is Left to Ponder After Hitting Her Head on the Garage Door – Twice

By Judi Curry

The mind is so creative.  It can imagine all sorts of things, some that are based on fact, and many that are based on fiction.  The old adage that “if you say it enough times it will be believed” is certainly true, if one looks at the political situation today.

But this is not about the politics facing the nation today. No, rather this is about me and my mind, and the scare that I caused just by thinking.

I frequently blame my decisions – whether right or wrong ones – on being blond.  I actually have always been a blond – even a “towhead” until the age of 15.  I figure that I am allowed to make one wrong decision a year, and if you total up my number of years you will see that I made my fair share of bad ones. Of course, I made a whole lot of good ones to offset the others.

Before I go any further, I can just hear readers of this rag say, “what’s the point of this?”  Or..”what a bunch of gibberish” or….   What you are reading is like a day of relief – a day when what I thought what  was going to be the worst thing could happen didn’t.

Three weeks ago the double garage door fell on my head.  Not once, but twice.  It sort of bounced before it came to a complete stop. I am not sure how it happened – it just happened.  I was not knocked out; there was no blood; but there was a hell of a bump. And not just one, but several.  A few days later I began having headaches.

I seldom ever get a headache.  I once had them when I had shingles because the rash was both inside and outside my skin.  But I don’t remember when I had one before – or after – that.  (Don’t worry – I have other problems instead!)

The headache gradually got worse; I could not wash my hair because of the soreness of the scalp.  And then the headaches went away.  And then they returned with more intensity; and then they went away again.  Pretty soon I found that when I looked at things I had to squint. And then I noticed that sometimes my eyes were like I had just looked at the sun, and I couldn’t see anything clearly.  And then I began noticing that I couldn’t find the the words I wanted to use.  I couldn’t think of my 18 grandkids names as quickly as I used to.  I couldn’t remember the last restaurant I reviewed.

Then I received a note from one of the men I used to date – Hugh. I couldn’t make heads or tales of the note he sent, and I wrote him back and asked him if he was alright.  I received an answer from his daughter, and she told me that in moving from Arizona to San Diego he hit his head on some boxes that were being stored but didn’t think anything of it.

Then he began working for a customer in Jamul – he owned his own construction company in Arizona – and hit his head again.  She noticed that he was having trouble speaking, and he said that one of his hands was numb.  She called 911 and he was taken to the hospital where they found out that he had a “brain bleed” in one quarter of his skull, and he was operated almost immediately.  At this writing he is getting stronger but still having trouble walking, writing and talking.

As if that wasn’t enough, one of my oldest and dearest friends – Harold – was diagnosed with a brain tumor and it too was operated on.  It is over 8 weeks since his surgery and he is still in recovery mode.

And here I am – headaches, and visions superimposing myself in Hugh and Harold’s place.  With the severity of the headache, I told myself, I must have a tumor also.  It hurts so bad at times.  It wasn’t a TIA – I’ve had several of those and my speech was not slurred and I never lost consciousness.  No.  This had to be something new and, again, in my mind, it must be a brain tumor.

I told a few of my friends that I was concerned; never told them what my concerns were, and mentioned that I would be checking it out soon.  I had all sorts of offers to drive me to the ER, but I said I wasn’t ready.  What was I waiting for?

Mother’s Day.  I didn’t want to have to tell my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren that I might not be with them next Mother’s Day.  I didn’t want to tell them that I probably would be having brain surgery and might not be as cognizant in the future as I am now.  I knew that I had a grandson that was asking his girlfriend to be his wife the day after Mother’s Day – and I didn’t want anything to interfere with his plans.  I wanted the occasion to be one of happiness and not marred by the old lady that is the matriarch of the family.

And then – last night and early this morning – the word came down to me to get myself to the ER.  That night I had the worst care of Vertigo I remember having.  I remember waking up and looking at the clock. I could see it – but I couldn’t read it, because it was doing somersaults all over the bedroom.

I tried to sit up but I couldn’t.  I closed my eyes, and opened them over and over, and had the worst case of motion sickness I remember having.  I knew that I had some Dramamine in the medicine cabinet, but there was no way in hell that I could put my feet on the floor to walk over to the bathroom.  So I just laid there, and thought about all the things I would have to do before I had the surgery; all the affairs I would have to put in order; all the items I would want to bequeath to my heirs.  (After all, I wrote my will 10 years ago when Bob passed on and I have many more grandchildren in those ten years.)  And, amidst all the thinking I fell back asleep.

When the alarm clock went off at 6:00 am, I opened one eye and looked at the clock.  It had ceased moving. A good sign.  Then I opened both eyes and it was where I had left it the night before.  I decided to try both feet on the ground and my head off the pillow.  IT WORKED! And I began getting ready for the day.

And how did I get ready for the day? I sent my youngest daughter – Stephanie – a text and asked her if she could take me to the ER today. I knew that it would only take a few minutes before she responded, and she sent me a quick “YES” and then followed up with a call.

Why did I want to go? What was the matter?  It appears that I forgot (?) to tell my children about the garage door.  (They probably would have thought it was a “chicken little” drama and instead of the garage falling it was the “sky.”  I have found over the years only to tell them things of which I have no control.  (I hate it when our roles are reversed and I become the child and they become the adult!)

Stephanie was here before 8:00 am, and we fought the traffic to Sharp Hospital, arriving just after 8:15 am.  I won’t bore you with the details – I’ve bored you enough – but there was no question that I was a candidate for a Cat-Scan.  It was done, and then we waited, and waited, and waited.

We thought it was interesting that two of my three daughters are named “Michele” – one “el” and “Stephanie” – and the two nurses I had were named the same names spelled the same way. An omen?

Finally, after waiting almost 4 hours, the results of the Cat-Scan came in.  It was NEGATIVE for a tumor.  In fact, the doctor said, my brain showed very little “wear and tear” for someone my age!  He ruled out all those things I was sure it was and I asked him if he thought it might be a sinus headache.

I have been having some sinus problems with all of the pollen floating around.  He said, after the suggestion, that that was probably exactly what was causing the headache.  I told him I had made an appointment to see an ENT – Ear, Nose and Throat – specialist next week and he said that probably would take care of the problem – unless I hit my head again.  As Stephanie and I walked out the door, he look at me, grinned, and wished me luck in my pursuit of a man!

Needless to say I feel a heck of a lot better.  I still have the headache, but I am not as worried as I was early this morning.  Someday I will learn to put my brain in the “off mode” and just let nature take its course.