sooo... about Sunday night...

Wil and I spent Sunday at Bumbershoot -- and then came home and sat in the garden to watch a movie. We sat until long after dark, then decided it was time to pack up and go inside. I was carrying a glass and an empty water bottle when I walked at full speed into the edge of one of our gorgeous Adirondack footstools. It stopped me completely in my tracks.

The neighbors were also outside, which is the only thing that kept me from shrieking several Olde Englishe words. I did, however, whisper them VERY LOUDLY as I struggled to stay upright. Wil asked what was wrong, and I said, "I think I just broke my effing leg."

Given that it was pitch black and he couldn't see where I was, let alone what position I was in, he asked me to repeat myself.

I said, "I just smacked in to the footstool -- I think I broke my leg."

Some more whispered cursing followed, and then I went inside. I had started to feel woozy -- so Wil told me to go sit at the foot of the stairs.... a wise move, given our concrete-floored basement and all the spiky things in the basement (bikes, tools, racks of plates...).

Within a few moments, apparently, I fainted. I remember feeling as if I was spinning -- and I could hear Wil but couldn't move my arms to grab him. Finally he was right there, next to me, and I had stopped. I kept trying to tell him that I couldn't stop the spinning, and he just kept asking my name. I kept saying, "But I was spinning -- and I couldn't stop it" and he kept saying "TELL ME YOUR NAME!!!". Finally I stopped and said, "It's Sunny. Sunny Delaney."

I sat there a few more minutes and started to ask what happened... but when I thought about it, I felt woozy again. Wil finished bringing everything inside and helped me up the stairs and into bed. I sat there for a while -- Wil making me eat something with salt and sugar in it -- some energy bar we had picked up at Bumbershoot earlier in the day.

I felt a lot better, but didn't move my leg -- and Wil had covered it up with a sheet so I wouldn't look at it and feel woozy again. Then, suddenly, I was rather spectacularly sick. Sure, Wil had been prepared with that, too, so I had a sturdy hole-less bag at the ready. But wow. Sick and sick and sick and sick. Wil reported afterward (since he valiantly removed said bag and took it outside) that it was "Heavy. And quite... solid feeling."

Ew.

And then I was fine. Oh, and I ate a piece of toast with jam and peanut butter -- more sugar and salt. Wil is a very good doctor. :)

Woke up Monday morning with a huge bruise on my left shin, a bit of swelling, but clearly no break. Just a good, solid bone bruise. Good times.

It's almost funny -- if I had had a glass or two of wine, I wouldn't have been moving so quickly across the darkened garden and wouldn't have smacked my leg so hard. (At least, that's my theory....) It has also reminded me that I should be getting more calcium in my brittle old bones.

I haven't run on the leg yet -- might try a little loop around the block tomorrow -- but I'm sure I'll be fine and hopefully able to keep up with Suz at the Iron Girl 5K this weekend!