Da Goddess

To revisit the tale of my head injury, well, why not?

On that fateful early February morn, I was feeding the bison an apple. It wasn’t the bison I normally feed as he was in a different corral. No, this was a younger male who was taking his role as a novice — and temporary — alpha male quite seriously. Not in an aggressive manner, just in a “I’m going to eat everything you offer before anyone else and you’ll have to throw the food on the ground for them while I’ll eat from your hand” kinda way. Had the actual alpha bull been around, this is what he’d have done.

There I was, feeding Dos (my nickname for this young bull) an apple. He knocked it from my hand, so I bent down to retrieve it. He ate from my hand again and promptly knocked it out once more. I retrieved it. Again. Then a third time. As I bent down to get it (on my side of the fence, mind you), apparently, he felt challenged and struck out at me. My mistake was bending forward in front of him at the part of the fence that was merely steel cable instead of the steel bars.

His head smashed into me (OMG! Holy fuck, it hurt!) and I was slammed onto my back. His horn had ripped into my scalp, which I realized almost immediately because I felt the warm gush of blood pouring down my head. I used my least muddy hand to try to stanch the flow. I also had to find my glasses. Surprisingly, I hadn’t lost consciousness nor had my glasses been broken. I saw the apple next to me, flipped it into the corral, and told Dos he was fine. He snorted in agreement.

I was able to stand without wobbling or falling over (maybe I wobbled a bit, hard to recall every little detail). Yay! I was able to bend down and retrieve my glasses without falling. Yay! Walking back to the house, all I could think was I needed to find someone to stay with GmaB that night. I called her son and told him this. After explaining what happened and saying I was going to call 911, he told me to hold off calling them and he’d be right over. I asked him to bring a clean towel.

Blood was pouring through my fingers, down my face, down the back of my head, everywhere. I went to the dining room window and knocked on it to get the attention of the caregiver who was on duty. Her absolute surprise was evident the very second she saw me. I asked her to grab my towel from the bathroom. Once my head was wrapped, I attempted to wash my free hand. She helped. GmaB’s son arrived, agreed I needed the hospital, and helped me into his vehicle.

At this point, I had no idea if my skull was split open or what, but the pain was beginning to really hit. Funny how shock delays the worst of it. I made stupid jokes to try to keep from crying because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I started.

We weren’t at the hospital hospital. The hospital runs like an urgent care center that’s also kind of like a hospital emergency room. I can’t explain it better than that. Anyhow, once there, I had quite a few people checking on me. I think they were shocked I was walking and talking and joking around. Believe me when I say I was doing my best to keep the tears in check. Panic was just below the surface. Only just. At some point, my wound was slightly cleaned, a pressure dressing applied, and I was sent for a CT scan. Once it was determined I didn’t have any skull fractures, the next step was determining if I required a trauma surgeon to take care of the cleaning, suturing, and whatever else was needed. The answer: yes. This meant I had to have at least one IV and an ambulance. One nurse came in with a young woman who was obviously a student and I told her her she was going to do just fine, there was no way she was going to cause me more pain than I was already experiencing, and even if she wasn’t able to get the IV started, any practice is good practice. The relief on her face was priceless! She initially got the IV, but the vein (my very bestestest vein!) collapsed, rendering that access point useless. The RN tried and couldn’t get it. Another RN came to try. He had some luck, but then that vein collapsed. One of the paramedics finally got it and we were off.

At the *actual* hospital, I waited and waited and waited, then asked for assistance to the bathroom because I was ready to burst. Once back from the loo, everyone was ready for me. Things went quickly from that point on. I was taken to surgery, got one of the nurses to take a couple photos of my head before, during, and after surgery, and I woke up with an adult-sized bang-a-roo* of a headache. The meds from surgery wore off far too quickly and I…

Something Something Something…blah blah blah. I had more of the story written here, but in a fog of exhaustion, I erased it. I don’t recall what I was writing, either.

Needless to say, I survived the entire ordeal. My scar is large, my hair is short, and I’m impatiently awaiting hair to return to its former glory.

* I miss you, Robert Urich.

All this to say, “I didn’t die. Yay.”