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As I write this, I have an ice pack on my head, and my iPhone at hand, ready to grab when my doctor calls. I have multiple tabs open in Firefox, one to a Google search on 'head injury,' another to a Google search on 'fell down hit head call doctor?' and another to the Twitter stream on which I asked 5600 people whether or not I should be worried that I fell down and hit my head. Because I did exactly that - fell down and hit my head - and I'm worried that I have a head injury. I probably don't, but then again, Natasha Richardson didn't think that she had a head injury in the moments after she fell down on a beginner ski hill in Quebec.
She died.
I'm having trouble resisting Googling 'Natasha Richardson.' I don't want to freak myself out.
(Okay, Google-resistance FAIL: here's why Googling Natasha Richardson is freaky for anyone who just bonked their head.)
(**panicking**)
The fact of the matter is, head injuries can be serious. And winter is a particularly bad time for head injuries, what with the ice and snow and activities involving ice and snow and all. I wasn't skiing or skating; I was just walking my kids home from my daughter's ballet class. The sidewalk was icy. I was carrying the toddler because the sidewalk was icy, and I didn't want him to fall. I fell instead, and because he was in my arms, I couldn't do anything to break my fall. All I could do was break his fall, with my body, which meant that I landed flat on my back and my head hit the ground and OUCH.
Winter + Parenthood = Elevated Risk Of Injury. None of the parenting books tell you that. And no-one tells you that when you walk on ice with a thirty-pound toddler in your arms, you're asking for trouble.
So what does Dr. Google say? Same thing that Dr. Twitter said: doesn't matter if you're a mom at home alone with your kids -- if you fell and hit your head, find someone to watch the kids and go and get it looked at. Otherwise, you too could end up like Natasha Richardson. My doctor was a little less worried: after learning that I wasn't experiencing nausea or dizziness or headache anywhere other than the spot that got bonked, she said that it would be okay to wait and watch. I'm not to go to sleep until the husband gets home and I've checked in with the hospital again, but I don't need to call an ambulance. (Husband: you do know how to call an ambulance, don't you? And you WILL call them if you start feeling weird, right? RIGHT? Me: what's an ambulance?) The fact that the lights sort of flickered out for a second when I knocked my head isn't good; the facts that I'm feeling fine, head-wise, is good. But the lesson of Natasha Richardson is, you never know. And, you don't mess with your head. As one writer said around the time of the Richardson accident, with head injuries, "a big thing can turn out OK, and a little thing can turn out to be a very big thing."
It's been three hours since I fell. Natasha died after four. If I go by Dr. Google and the sad tale of Natasha, I should have gone to the hospital, alone with kids in tow, three hours ago. But reality is, even the most anxiety-prone mom generally reserves that anxiety for her children and when push comes to hospital-going shove with her own injuries or ailments, she won't budge until the last minute. That's kind of where I'm at, for better or for worse.
I'm guessing/hoping that I've made the right decision for right now, that having the doc on speed-dial is enough for tonight.
But tomorrow, I might consider wearing a helmet when I walk out my front door.
Catherine Connors blogs at Her Bad Mother and Their Bad Mother and The Bad Moms Club and everywhere in between. She thinks that Santa might be a vampire.
