What can I say? I've been up to exactly nothing.
It was a busy Friday and Saturday but I found time to run 11 km after taking my car in for its oil change. A slow, but steady run in the rain. I was glad.
Sunday was just me and just the couch and just the tv.
It's been raining alot.
I greeted Monday with my usual grudging respect.
I was on time for work, after sleeping really well, something I don't normally do on Sunday nights.
A site meeting was scheduled to check on something.
We went to the site, two large condo buildings, just two of what feels like thousands all over the city.
All routine stuff. I'd been there before.
As I said, it's been raining alot.
We got down to the fifth level of the parking garage, where what we needed to see was installed.
One of my colleagues, walking ahead of me, pointed to a large patch on thinly-spread-out coffee-coloured mud.
The words "Watch this, it's slippery" were not even out of his mouth before I was down,
falling, and then hitting the ground, backwards, hard, my hard hat flying off, my head hitting the concrete, hard, my left elbow taking the rest of the brunt of the fall.
I lay there for exactly one second before bursting into loud, panicked tears, in front of both my colleagues and our client. Panicked does not even describe how I felt lying there. How hard did I just hit my head? What have I done? Can I see? (yes). Can I move my legs (yes, yes, thank you, yes).
My second co-worker crouched down, put her jacket under my head. I tried to calm myself.
More people arrived. The usual response, I guessed, when something happens on a construction site.
Things unfolded. I got up (covered, I will add, in mud. Me, my raincoat, my hair, my clothes, my notebook, my purse (my purse...)We walked back up (nothing was going to be looked at today). We sat in a construction trailer and I had some water.
My wonderful colleagues brought me home. I had scared, secret thoughts of Natasha Richardson. As I do with every thought that enters my head lately that I find disturbing (how much I miss my husband, how much I resent my job sometimes, how frustrating I've been finding life in general lately), I brushed it aside.
I took some Advil. I did some work online. I called my husband. I watched the endless CNN loop of Hurricane Sandy coverage, chiding myself for worrying about my situation when people's homes, cities, and very livelihoods were being threatened.
A couple of hours went by. I was sore. My condo board meeting was cancelled due to weather.
The shock that had encapsulated me wore off.
I started to cry. I felt panicked again. I watched the rain outside, watched the wind blow leaves around and I listened to the raindrops hitting my windows and felt a little better.
Fast forward to today. I awoke at 8, not a minute before, and I didn't hear anything after I went to bed last night of the storm. I text messaged my boss that I was going to work from home. I lay still on my side because lying on my back hurt.
I took some more Advil and fell back asleep. I woke up and went to my doctor. There was, for the first time, no one waiting in his outer office. He was, as he usually is, matter-of-fact and brisk. A strain, nothing more, to my hip, something else to my neck. I worked online when I got back. My other boss wanted details. I didn't feel like giving them to him. My sister came by with her kids and we all had dinner. She went home, night falling. My neck starting to ache again as the ibuprofen wears off. Me, not feeling like taking anything else. Me, feeling sorry for myself. Me, calling my mom for comfort (why do I do this to myself?) Me, crying again. Me, not feeling any comfort at all.
Feeling, instead, panicked again. Crying about 'my luck' and about another physical ailment I can't seem to control or do anything about.
Me, sitting on the couch, under a blanket, alternating the heating pad and the ice pack, and just thinking about nothing.