Thursday, December 24, 2009

Don't Drink the Water

Last night Clint and I had mapped out our day for today.  For the first half of the day we would go to Costco and buy all of the essentials for our Christmas feast, not to mention all the plasticware, etc., for the kids.  For the second half of the day we would clean the house spotless, steam clean the carpets, etc.

So one little bump in our plan.  Clint decided that blacking out in the kitchen, cracking his head on the tile floor, and getting five staples in his head would be a much more appealing way to spend our day, rather than shopping and cleaning.

So it started this morning.  I was asleep in bed when I got whacked in the head with a hairbrush.  It was Clint, sitting on the toilet on the bathroom (with the lid down, just to clarify), immobilized with confusion because he was bleeding from his head and he couldn't quite figure out what happened.  He tried to holler at me to wake me up, but I didn't hear him, so he flung a brush at me.  After some initial confusion, we finally *sort of* pieced together the events that led to his head bleeding all over the place.

Clint woke up before me this morning and went into the backyard to feed the dogs.  When he came back into the house, he chugged down a 20 ounce bottle of water.  This isn't anything out of the ordinary; he always drinks a ton of water.  After slamming down the water, he had a dull ache in his chest; that small stabbing sensation that's typical of drinking too fast.  He leaned over the counter for a second, and that's the last thing he remembers.  When he woke up, he was lying on the hard tile floor in a puddle of blood.  He was very disoriented; at first he thought he was still in bed.  Eventually he made his way into the bathroom, but was still unsure of what was going on.  Enter: Hairbrush.

So I woke up this morning to a nice polite brush clobbering me in the head, followed by walking into the bathroom to see blood running down my husband's head.  My first exclamation was, I believe, "Oh my God!  What happened?!"  He tried to explain it to me, but he was still confused himself.  He kept mentioning the dogs...I was beginning to think he had gotten attacked by a dog.  After piecing it together, the next sentences were (and these I remember clearly), "Okay, we have to...well, oh shit.  We have to get you to the hospital.  Shit.  I'll call your mom and have her pick up the kids, and, oh shit, let me get my contacts on.  Shit."

The emergency room ushered us right in.  They tested Clint's blood sugar, and also did an EKG and a CT on him.  Everything came back normal.  They're not sure why Clint fainted, but the doctor thought it might have something to do with drinking the cold water too fast.  He said that there's a chance that Clint cooled down his "inner-core" too quickly, causing his blood vessels to constrict and temporarily ceasing oxygen flow to the brain.  In other words, just a freak-thing. 

I have refused to let Clinton do anything today but rest, so this has resulted in us being seriously behind schedule with our Christmas preparations.  After dropping Clint off at home, I went and did all of the shopping.  Clint's mom came with me to help, because she knows I'm a scatterbrained shopper.  With her help, we flew through all of our shopping in about an hour, and that counted going to two different places.  Once home, I cleaned the master bedroom completely, which is a miraculous feat in of itself (the master bedroom is the pack rat room).  I was going to keep going on to the rest of the house, but I felt physically drained.  So Clint and I popped in a movie, which brings me to the present.

So tomorrow, I have to finish everything that we were supposed to finish today, all before 4:30 in the afternoon, because that is the time we celebrate Christmas with Clint's side of the family. 

I should feel overwhelmed, but I don't.  I don't know what my problem is, but I can't seem to muster up any stress or anything.  I just feel very oh-well-ish and even a little serene about everything right now...maybe because I'm just glad that Clint's head wound wasn't anything serious.  But hopefully this feeling isn't that deceptive calm before the storm.  Gotta just keep this smile plastered on until after the holidays.


  1. Oh. My. GOSH! I'm glad he's okay. That's definitely not the way anyone wants to spend Christmas eve, but it's most important that he's alright!

    Remind me to share Matt's story about his head wound with you sometime (when he was 16, years before we met). It's like a horror story!

    I hope y'all have a great Christmas despite Clint's accident and that he feels okay.