Thursday I shot two new YouTube videos, went to the post office to ship the books from Wednesday’s flash sale, then grocery shopping, and then we came home. Chelle, the kids, and I had unloaded the groceries, and I was going back out to close the hatch on our car.
My front porch has a gate. I’ve opened and closed this gate thousands of times in five years, I’m sure. Sometimes I do it a dozen times in a single day to keep Ash (our dog) from running out while we unload the car. This time, though, I closed the gate and, for some stupid fucking reason, instead of turning around to walk down the steps, I took a step backward and missed the next step.
What happened next is a blur of movement and me screaming. My mother, who lives on the same property as us, was outside and saw what happened. I’m a 38-year-old man, and my 72-year-old mother came jogging across the yard hollering “My baby! My baby!” as if Nazis were stealing me from her breast. You can laugh. It’s funny now. At least I think it is.
So what happened? I sailed backward, missing every step on my six-foot-tall porch and landed on my head, neck, and right shoulder (you might be able to picture that; if you’re wondering why I didn’t break my neck, you’re not the only one) and tumbled ass over teakettle into the car we’d just unloaded. The fender stopped me like a brick wall. My back hit with such force that I put a dent in the car, one that won’t come out, not even with aid of a plunger.
I was unconscious for a time, probably because I landed headfirst on solid ground, or maybe because the back of my head also hit the car when I landed. Who knows? Thing is, I’d scrambled my brains. I woke up in the ambulance in more pain than I’ve ever known. Fun times.
Because of my head injury, I lay on an ER stretcher, strapped to a backboard with a neck brace on, for three hours while they ran all sorts of tests, including CT scans where I had to be lifted from gurney to table and back again, all while suffering this hitherto unheard of level of pain. See, when they’re ruling out head trauma, you don’t get any good painkillers because they can mask symptoms of brain injury. Ain’t I lucky?
Didja know that three hours in excruciating agony can make you seriously contemplate chewing off your tongue so that you’ll asphyxiate on your own blood? The more you know…
When they finally came in to take off the neck brace and give me pain medicine, all they had to offer was Dilaudid. In case you don’t know, I’m a recovering junkie from way back (clean and sober since 2001) so I refused. I asked for something that wasn’t narcotic and they returned with Toradol.
Lemme tell ya, sports fans, Toradol ain’t shit. Didn’t do me a lick of good. But I stayed the course. No dope. No relapse. I’d be the hero of my people!
Just kidding. I finally let them shoot me up about six hours in. Couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t let them send me home with anything so GO TEAM!
(I take Norco 7.5 for my normal everyday back pain so I’m not completely without relief, so calm down. I don’t need any comments about how stubborn I am, thanks. You should know that Dilaudid is synthetic heroin and can cause physical addiction, whereas the worst you’ll get from Norco is a mental addiction. It’s the difference between wanting another pill and NEEDING TO SHOOT THE FUCK UP BECAUSE THERE’S ANTS LIVING IN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FLESH)
Anyfuck, I didn’t break my neck, obviously, because they took the neck brace off, which is a miracle in itself because all my weight (all 350lbs) landed on my head, neck, and clavicle. I do have a hairline fracture of the collarbone but it’s not serious. I did however fuck up my back. Again. For the sixth time.
I won’t go into my many surgeries here. We’d be here too long and I’m already thinking about taking another Norco, (which can impede my better judgment and make me act less than civil) because my old buddy Pain is creeping back in. Long story short, I have nerve damage due to all these surgeries, and the fall exacerbated the old injuries. My right leg is currently paralyzed, but we’re all hoping that’s only temporary due to swelling. My surgery in 2016 was suppose to have fixed it so this would never happen again. Guess my back doc didn’t take into account the possibility of his patient being a fuckin clumsy oaf, huh? Well, joke’s on him. Ha!
Yeah, so, I’m laid up and hurting and fuckin crying over the outpouring of support I’ve received on Twitter. Y’all don’t have to buy my books or start a GoFundMe or any of that shit. I’m well insured, and you guys have been great to me already so me and mine are set and comfortable. I have seven novels awaiting publication, too. Trust me: I’ll. Be. Fine.
Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart, for all the love and support. You guys are the best.