November 1, 2014
Arriving at the emergency room, my calm demeanor belied the hustle and bustle of the emergency room. Whisked into a room, it was all hands on deck. I was being jostled on all sides. Nurses were moving me from the ambulance gurney to the ER bed, inserting IV lines, and generally trying to soothe what they suspected was a terrified accident victim. The doctor (doctors?) was listening to my Paramedic Angel give an assessment of my injuries observed at the scene, at the same time issuing instructions to notify radiology that I needed a whole host of x-rays.
As near as I could tell, both Paramedic Angel and Dr. Diligent were both trying to rule out any internal injuries I may have sustained. After all, I had complained of pain across the left side of my abdomen. Actually, I had pain on most of the left side of my body. The top of my left foot, my left ankle, the left side of my left leg, my left hand, my left wrist, everything left was in pain, except my head. My head, though it had smacked a hard surface not once, not twice, but three times, was in no pain. This was the fact on which I concentrated. Meanwhile, a nurse was taking care to administer a pain killer/sedative into my IV.
After receiving Paramedic Angel’s report, Dr. Diligent took great pains to carefully and completely exam his accident victim – me. “Okay, Victoria,” I heard a voice forewarn me, “we’re going to have to cut off your clothes.” And the cutting commenced. My pants were the first to be shredded. “Those are Calvin Kleins,” my dumbfounded brain sobbed.
Now, I do not wish to make light of my accident in any way. Having said that, I must be honest about the thoughts that were going through my head as the nurse was snip, snip, snipping away my clothes. I must also be honest in my vanity. I have never been much of a clothes horse, no, my clothes are much more practical, much more teacher-y. My wardrobe is what most would call functional…until recently. This past summer, I felt I owed it to myself to put a little more thought and, subsequently, a little more money into my choice of work clothes. After enlisting my sister’s help (she really did all of the work), I had a wardrobe I loved.
I hardly had time to recover from the loss of my beloved pants, when the nurse began cutting away my blouse. “Okay, with the shirt,” I calmly thought. And then finally, the coup de grace, “No!” cried my befuddled brain. “Not my Victoria’s Secret!” There were three victims that afternoon; me, Calvin Klein, and sadly, Victoria’s Secret.
A Break in the Action
I am going to wrap up today’s post, as I am having difficulty getting past this point. It’s not that anything more tragic occurs and I hate to leave you dear Readers hanging. But, my physical well-being and my mental well-being do not mesh. I mean, I literally walked away from this accident…calmly. I literally walked calmly away from this accident. My mind is having a hard time accepting that. I have always declared that I am blessed beyond belief. I am highly blessed and Divinely favored. Well, please excuse me while I go give thanks and see if I might be able to solicit God’s help in reconciling my physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.
I will be back. Peace, ~v.