Have A Nice Trip
On 1/19/2018 Dad tripped over the curbside at Raising Cane's Chicken as we went to grab dinner.
He was distracted all evening prior to his fall. For instance, we were driving and he was more preoccupied in playing "see my song collection" on his iPhone in the car. He was doing 19-25 in a 35 MPH zone and I know he irritated the shit out of the drivers in the turn zone from the oncoming lane who had to yield to his pokey ass while he went through his library.
Dad was rambling about something when I saw him stumble. It was like slow motion, you know, that scene in the first Spider-Man movie (Tobey Maguire) when Flash throws a punch and Peter gawks at his fist in slow motion. I saw him pitch forward, stick out a leg to try to break his fall, but wind up slamming legs and gut first into the cement in front of the restaurant with an audible and resonant thud. A passerby ran over to help, but Laura and I hoisted Dad on his feet. He was in pain saying that he could not move his left arm. We ate and Laura talked him into going to the E.R.
The wait wasn't too bad, we got in at 7-ish and were out by 10. The worst of it was that there's a flu outbreak from hell in this city so we were surrounded by patients that looked like a Stephen King novel waiting to happen: infants and toddlers vomiting in plastic tubs, some snoring with gurgles, one baby wearing nothing but a diaper because her fever was so high. The only thing that kept me sane was a comic book collection I'd packed in my bag. The doctors diagnosed it as a contusion and sent us home.
So this weekend was just spent at the house. I've also got the cold from hell, so I put off cleaning the head. I just dicked around in bed Saturday watching Disney movies on FreeForm, only leaving twice to buy fast food lunches and hunt Pokemon.
He was distracted all evening prior to his fall. For instance, we were driving and he was more preoccupied in playing "see my song collection" on his iPhone in the car. He was doing 19-25 in a 35 MPH zone and I know he irritated the shit out of the drivers in the turn zone from the oncoming lane who had to yield to his pokey ass while he went through his library.
Dad was rambling about something when I saw him stumble. It was like slow motion, you know, that scene in the first Spider-Man movie (Tobey Maguire) when Flash throws a punch and Peter gawks at his fist in slow motion. I saw him pitch forward, stick out a leg to try to break his fall, but wind up slamming legs and gut first into the cement in front of the restaurant with an audible and resonant thud. A passerby ran over to help, but Laura and I hoisted Dad on his feet. He was in pain saying that he could not move his left arm. We ate and Laura talked him into going to the E.R.
The wait wasn't too bad, we got in at 7-ish and were out by 10. The worst of it was that there's a flu outbreak from hell in this city so we were surrounded by patients that looked like a Stephen King novel waiting to happen: infants and toddlers vomiting in plastic tubs, some snoring with gurgles, one baby wearing nothing but a diaper because her fever was so high. The only thing that kept me sane was a comic book collection I'd packed in my bag. The doctors diagnosed it as a contusion and sent us home.
So this weekend was just spent at the house. I've also got the cold from hell, so I put off cleaning the head. I just dicked around in bed Saturday watching Disney movies on FreeForm, only leaving twice to buy fast food lunches and hunt Pokemon.