Thank you, Natasha

“Are you OK?”

My eyes flutter open.

Oh my God.

Everything was blurred. Snippets of Ice Castles flashed through my mind.

Oh my God. I’ve gone blind.

I blink a few times.

My glasses. My glasses must have gotten knocked off when I fell.

And so began Poppyseed’s 8th birthday party. Five minutes into her skating party, I was on the disabled list. Coming out of the second turn, I felt my legs slip out from under me, as I fell backwards, whacking my head on the hard floor.

“Let me help you,” said one mom. “Here are your glasses,” said another. They said a few other things as they guided me off the floor, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. The massive pain in my head was pulling my attention elsewhere.

I stood on the side of the rink for a few moments, waiting for the shakiness to pass. With a sudden onset of nausea, I caught PC’s attention and asked him to help me to a seat. The grandmother of one of Poppyseed’s guests sat with me while PC fetched a cup of water. Maybe some cold water would quell the pain. The nausea. The overwhelming flushed sensation. The blurriness.

And then I remembered her. Natasha Richardson. Having hit her head while on a beginning ski run in 2009, she refused medical treatment. Three hours later, complaining of a headache, she was admitted to a hospital and diagnosed with an epidural hematoma. Because she had not been examined at a medical facility immediately after impact, a potentially-treatable injury proved fatal.

“Call my dad,” I quietly instructed, “I need to go to the hospital.”

Though I missed the rest of the party, seeking medical attention was the right decision. Having already survived a brain trauma, as the ER doctor explained, my head is just a bit more susceptible to further damage. A CT ruled out any bleeding or fracture.

Diagnosis? Mild concussion. Treatment? Rest. And time. Fortunately DadGiraffe thought to ask when I might be feeling better. For had he not, I would be really concerned that I was still symptomatic two days later.

But the pain is not as bad today as it was yesterday and, I imagine, is worse today than it will be tomorrow.

Though there doesn’t seem to be anything they could do to heal my bruised pride.