Are you okay?

 Have you ever wondered to yourself if you have a subdural hematoma?

I clearly watch too many CSI/pathologist-based shows. I don’t even really know what a subdural hematoma is. It’s a brain bleed—I just looked it up. I do not have one.

I know this mostly because they are deadly; my accident happened two weeks ago, and I didn’t hit my head when I fell. I feel fairly certain it is just a regular hematoma.

Here’s the story: I usually send my youngest daughter out to fetch the mail, but I guess I was feeling sassy or something, and I decided to venture to the bottom of the hill myself. Having a house on a hill seemed like a good idea when we looked at the house, but there’s that whole walking up and down the hill thing too—don't get the wrong idea—it's not a big hill; there are maybe 12-15 steps down to the mailbox. I’m just lazy.

It had just stopped storming, so I carefully stepped over the large mud puddle at the bottom of the steps, over the curb, and into the street so that I could inspect my mailbox’s innards. When I looked inside, there were TWO hand-addressed envelopes (it’s a big day), so I was pretty excited. I plucked the mail out: two letters, a few flyers, and some junk mail. I was totally absorbed in the contemplation of what I might find in those two letters. I had one letter in each hand, with the flyers and junk tucked in behind my treasures.

No longer remembering the violent storm that had recently flooded the streets, I stepped right into the big puddle at the bottom of the stairs.  Everything started happening in slow motion. I felt my foot lose purchase in the mud. I felt the mud ooze up past the sole of my sandal. I felt the slight twist of my body as I began to lose balance—I tried to self-correct—alas, it was not to be. be. Down, down, down we went, my letters and me. I saw the pavement rushing to my face, and by instinct I pushed my arms out to catch myself from face-planting. I landed with the heels of my hands first.

Once on the ground, my first thought was, “Are the letters okay?” The letters were in fact just fine, still clutched in my iron fists of letter salvation. My next thought was, “I wonder if anyone saw that." Finally, I figured I should roll over and inventory my injuries. So, like a little piggy enjoying her slop, I just rolled over in the mud. I lay like that for probably a full minute, hands still clutching the letters, arms high holding them out of the mud.

I had fallen on my right side, my abdomen landing on a paving stone, my knee hitting the step, and my big toenail got a bit too involved with the curb for my liking. I had a scratch on my left wrist and a scrape on my right knee, but overall not too bad.  I spent a bit more time contemplating how to get up off the ground without further injuring myself—it involved some scooting, then up on my knees, then a full-moon situation to the street.  I was wearing a dress (which I had hiked up to my waist as I maneuvered my girth out of the puddle). Fear not—I was also wearing bright purple shorts.  

It wasn’t until the next day that I felt the full impact—it's been a while since I fell that hard. My arms and shoulders were so sore from catching myself, my back and side were a mess, and of course my knees and toes . . .  I got a pretty deep-looking bruise on my side, and don’t you know it? A little pea-sized lump under the bruise. I can’t confidently say it was my first hematoma, but it is the first one since I heard the word “hematoma.”

I’m fine now—the bruise is gone from my side, and my back and arms are feeling good—but I do still have that little lump.