clifgarboden

I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up

DATELINE: B&W Hospital, February 4, 2011

It really happens. Around 6 a.m., staggered into the bathroom and my legs went out from under me. Tried to catch myself and missed. Went down in 2 stages — boom and Boom — each time hitting my head on something. First, possibly, on the steel rack they have in there to hold plastic urinals; the second, for sure, on the bio-hazards bin. The result was two gashes above my right eye (sort of the Jake Lamotta look). A bit of blood, but despite the relentless blood-thinner shots over the past week (to prevent clots from being bed-ridden so long), I coagulated nicely. The other wound was larger and sort of centered on the vertical along the scalp line.

After the second boom and a few minutes of pointless fumbling and discovering I lacked the co-ordination and strength to get myself up, an army of nurse-related people broke in and carried my body back to my bed, to which I am now officially confined. They have an alarm set and everything in case I try to pull a Lindsay Lohan.

All this was followed up by a severe over-reaction from staff, who assumed I’d been rendered unconscious and worse, when, in fact, I’ve been hit harder by a softball. So, erring on far side of caution, they did a CAT scan (no results disclosed, so I’m betting I’m okay or they lost them).

THIS JUST IN: Cat scan reveals an alien, but normal brain. As predicted (by me). The head seamstress stopped by and put 16 stitches on my forehead — 10 in the big wound and six above my right eyebrow. No biggie.

AS REPORTED EARLIER, the feeding tube is in. For those of you unfamiliar

Making it even harder to type in this anti-ergonomic environment.

with this particular form of torture, it doesn’t get to my stomach via my mouth or nose (that’s old school); they punch a hole directly into the gut and install the tube so it dangles right off my stomach. Lots more to tell and explain and make fun of, but it’s difficult to type under these conditions. I was supposed to go home today, but this fall may have set me back a day or two. Damn.

Actually, I am now typing with a oxygen probe on my left ring finger, an oxygen feed into my nose, and an active IV (spewing antibiotics to defeat any pneumonia.

Blog over; sleep now.


  1. And a Vulcan greeting right back atcha.

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