Tis the Season to be Falling, Fall-La-La-La-La-So-Much-Blood-La

I received a phone call at 3 am a few weeks ago. I was in a Xanax induced sleep so it was like waking from surgical anesthesia, not knowing who or where I was. Wait, what? Why is mom calling me? She is literally 20 yards away from me, albeit with an outdoor staircase between us, but still, weird. 'Sheila, I fell down and hit my head and I'm bleeding.' 'I'll be right there.' Where are my clothes? Where are my clothes? WHERE ARE MY FUCKING CLOTHES?! Oh, here they are. Right in front of me.

I worked as a volunteer EMT for seven years and saw some pretty surreal things during that time. I also worked as a surgical tech for four years, many times with my hands inside a person's body. I believe I was able to effectively and analytically do my job well because my patients were strangers. It was easier to focus when my emotions were not involved- and I wasn't on Xanax. This was nothing like that.

I enter my mom's bathroom where apparently a horde of zombies has just exited. Mom is covered in blood; her face, neck, head, back, nightgown, the floor-all drenched. 'I'm okay', she says.

Okay, so she's definitely not a zombie because she can speak.

I check her head, which is still emitting a steady stream of sanguine ooze. I find a gauze pad and have her hold it on the wound. I check her pupils to see if they react to light. I ask her what her name is, how many fingers I am holding up, and where she is. All good. 'Who's the President?' A look of distaste appears on her face. Okay, she's lucid. Wow, I'm functioning somewhat sufficiently here.

I remove her horror movie nightgown, wash her body as best I can, get her dressed, help her to the car, and then I speed to the nearest hospital, 30 minutes away.

They x-rayed, CAT scanned, questioned, and poked and prodded the hell out of her. She ended up with 12 staples in the back of her head, but no internal injuries and no fractures. The staples give a whole new meaning to the term metalhead.

Metalhead mom!

It's good that this happened near Christmastime because we've received numerous boxes filled with packing material. I'm saving up all the bubble wrap to make mom a suit for her protection. I'm sure either my snowboarding or motorcycle helmet will fit her and then I will be able to sleep through the night knowing that if she falls, she may bounce a few times, but she won't break.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

For mom- Louis Armstrong's I've Got a Feelin' I'm Fallin'