AuburnChick's Adventures

Thursday morning was my first pre-planning day at school. It was Day 1 of three of meetings.

It had been storming for over twenty four hours; my headache was worse than the day before.

I tried not to let that affect my mood as I left the house.

The theme of this year’s planning sessions is “We’re under construction.” My school is literally under construction with two buildings torn down and a new one on its way up.

The administrators had fun with the decorations. I may need to keep the hard hat to protect me from errant walls.

I said hello to a couple of teachers and got myself a spot where I could see and hear well.  If you’ve ever been in an educational in-service, you know that teachers are the worst about talking when someone is presenting information.

Ahem.

So, here’s the thing. Although I can talk a person’s ear off one-on-one, I just do not do groups well. I’m quiet. I’m content to sit on my own, observing others or lost in my thoughts.

If you’re an introvert like me, you know how much energy it takes to engage in social situations.

I needed to conserve my energy on Thursday. Fighting a constant headache had drained me.

So I sat, tried my best to listen to the information coming at me – most of which I already knew, and stayed aloof.

I didn’t go out to lunch, even though I was glad to be invited by a tender-hearted Freshman English teacher. I wanted to check on my classroom, but mostly, I needed to sit in the quiet library.

I was able to plan most of the first week of school and start work on my Smartboard file for those lesson plans.

I found the ninety-minute lunch break a blessed respite.

The afternoon session was taken up by ELL training. It was one of the best I’ve ever had, but I wasn’t up for all of the collaborative discussions and moving around. The trainer was a loud, energetic gal (a gem of a teacher, truly), which was hard on my throbbing head. I did my best (well, maybe not my best, but we all have our days), but it was a struggle.

I felt bad after I left. I had not spoken to a couple of people I’m close to. I had not introduced myself to a new teacher. I stayed in my shell, or rather my Hogwarts Running Club hoodie.

It’s hard when you’re introverted and shy. In the past, I’ve been accused of being a snob. Sometimes, people think I’m angry.

I’ve was once told that being introverted was an excuse not to engage with people. That statement hurt my feelings and made me withdraw more.

Thursday, our principal advised us to stay in our lane so we don’t get caught up in or create drama among ourselves.

Y’all, I live in my own lane. I’ve seen what can happen when I veer away from it – I do dumb things like trip over dogs or walk into walls.

I really hope that people don’t misunderstand me. I have a sincere love for most people (sandpaper people not so much), and I am loyal as all get out. I’ll bend over backwards to help someone too. I’m passionate about what I do and give 150%. I think that’s why I run out of energy.

Ugh.

I wish I was an extrovert. I guess we always want what we don’t have, eh?

Maybe I should just stop worrying about what people think and just be me.

Now there’s a thought.

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After I got out of the shower this morning, I noticed that one corner of the bandaid on my forehead was peeling off.  The plastic surgeon had told me to leave it on until it fell off, which would take approximately a week.

I’m not going to lie.  Although I was getting used to seeing it, I was ready for it to come off – especially because I have training tomorrow.

I figured that it wasn’t doing as much good if it was starting to come off (see the darker edges?) – namely water and such could get underneath – so I finished pulling it off.

Let’s compare this picture to the first one, moments after I split my head open.

Vast difference, eh?  Kudos to Dr. N for the talent that God blessed him with, especially for overachieving people like Your’s Truly.

There is still an area that’s a little red and raw, but I’m sure that as time passes, it will regain its normal hue.

If you take a closer look, I’m still sporting a bit of a goose egg, but compared to the day I bumped my head and got stitches, it’s looking better.

The lighting makes a difference as to how much it stands out.  I’m sure I could cover it up with makeup, but I’m concerned about infection, so I’m leaving the area clean.  Heck, I’ve got so many scars that it would be a waste of time trying to camouflage them.

Why won’t my hair dry completely like this instead of going all 80’s on me?

There is a silver lining.

The bump on my head is stretching out my forehead wrinkles and making them almost invisible (look at the bottom right picture, which I took last month while visiting Rooster and his girl).  I’d rather get Botox, truth be told, than have a concussion to hide the wrinkles.  Just sayin’.

Perspective, y’all.

It’s all about finding joy in the journey, which I’ve become a pro at.

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Oh y’all, sometimes I wonder about myself.

I mean, for someone who’s book-smart, I do the dumbest things sometimes.

Take yesterday, for instance.

I’d gone to bed headache-free (yay) but woke up with another one.  Ugh.

I’d actually slept well, so I was discouraged because I’d hoped that I’d wake up feeling better, but hey, that’s par for the course with this little head thing I’ve got going on.

I took it easy and made lunch plans with Megan.  She picked me up, and we headed to Newk’s, where we placed our orders and sat down to chat while we waited for our food.

I love this friend of mine.  We’re starting our seventh year of working together, and she’s simply wonderful.  ❤

My pizza arrived, and I immediately noticed the cheese on it, so I asked them to remake it without the cheese, as I’d originally ordered.  I even commented to Megan that the pizza didn’t look like it usually looked.

When they brought the second pizza, it didn’t have cheese, but it still didn’t look right.  I picked up something and asked, “Is this chicken?”

Megan said that it was.

What the heck?

I thought back to what I’d ordered – the Mediterranean Pizza.  I wondered, did it come with chicken?

Megan looked at me and said, “Yes.  I was wondering what you were doing, but I didn’t say anything.”

She knows I’m a vegan, hence her questioning.

Y’all, I’d meant to order the Veggie Pizza, which I went back and reordered, essentially paying twice for lunch.

Even with the ingredients listed on the big menu board, I did what I’m becoming famous for and didn’t pay attention.

I told Megan that I hoped she liked leftovers, because dinner was on me.

This, my friends, is the story of my life.

For a reading teacher who helps students learn to pay attention to details in text, I sure don’t do a good job of paying attention in my real life.

The Mr. and I were listing some of the times I didn’t pay attention and paid the price for it.

Let’s take a stroll down memory lane . . .

Back when I was in high school, I was sleeping over at my friend’s house.  We got home from somewhere, and it was dark as we made our way to the door.  I stepped on the end of a brick in the yard, it flipped up, end over end, and hit me in the shin, breaking the skin and leaving a huge scar.  I never got stitches for that.  I probably should have.

There was that time when the Mr. and I had been married for a year, and I signed up to do a walk-a-thon, but before I could even meet the group I was going to participate with, I ran into a wood stake that was holding up an event tent.  The stake went into my lower shin, and I had to drive myself to a walk-in clinic and get stitches.  During my drive to the clinic, I had to STOP on the road to let the walkers cross in front of me. I remember that moment as if it was yesterday.

Back then, we didn’t have cell phones, and we only had one car, which I’d driven to the event.  I had to use a landline to call his parent’s house, and they had to drive him to the clinic to get me.  The doctor on call there turned out to be a friend of our doctor friend who the Mr. had gone to college with (the one we stayed with last fall when we went to Auburn one weekend).  Small world.

A few years later, when we lived in Miami, I broke about three toes running into my dining room chairs. The kicker (literally) is that I didn’t break them all the same day. Oh no sir. I broken those babies on different days. Should I have moved the offending chairs elsewhere? Yep. I’m not always the brightest bulb in the pack.

There was the time when we took the kids to Auburn for a weekend of football fun, and I lifted the back door of my car but wasn’t standing back far enough and caught my forehead with the corner of it.  I sported a goose egg that day (but no stitches).

How about the time I tripped over the sidewalk, while I was in the process of logging an extra quarter mile . . . with virtually no light available (because I’m smart that way) . . . and Rooster tenderly patched me up. It was one of those mother-son bonding moments. Silver linings, folks!

It’s hard to forget the morning I burned my hand on the straightener while I was getting ready for work – all because I didn’t look down before I grabbed it and didn’t realize that I was stepping on the cord, so when I pulled it up to my head, my grip slipped until I was holding it by the hot metal plates.  Another teacher patched me up after I stopped by CVS for gauze, Neosporin, and tape. One of my students told me I was all about the drama. You know, there are much less painful ways to create drama in your life. I mean, heck, I teach at a high school where drama lurks around every corner.

Of course, you know about the incident with my ankle.

Over the years, there have been countless bruises, bumps, and scrapes.

All because I have a habit of not paying attention.

You would think that I’d have learned my lesson by now, but nooooooooo, I’m about the world’s slowest learner when it comes to common sense.

Sigh.

The pizza thing was more evidence of that.

I have got to learn to be in whatever moment I’m in . . . to focus . . . because concrete walls do not move, nor do dogs sleeping in the middle of the floor.

Oh, and just so you know – I’m starting my Christmas list early.  At the top:  bubble wrap – body length – because, well, you know.

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Yesterday, I had an appointment to remove the stitches from my forehead.

I got up around 7:00, fed the dogs, and completed my Seamless Bible study work by the time the Mr. finished getting ready for work.

He was surprised to see me awake so early but surmised, in his words, that I was “easing back into things.”

Note to everyone:  When I retire, don’t call or text before 9am because this girl will be sleeping in all of the days.

Except for days when I have appointments.

Despite another headache, or rather a worsening of the headache that I’ve been chained to since last Tuesday, I managed to make myself presentable.

That lighting though.  ❤

Yes, folks, that’s almost full-on makeup, except for the forehead.

I am loving my highlights, by the way.  Rebecca called them sun-kissed in a comment she left me yesterday.  That’s exactly what I was going for.

I took some pain medicine because the headache, and I also applied one of my absolute favorite essential oils – Vetiver.

I am so glad that my friend, Katja, told me about this one.  It’s got an earthy/woodsy aroma that is subtle but uber-soothing.  Like seriously slide-me-into-Happy-Land-soothing.

I needed this because I’d spent an hour in bed googling symptoms for concussions, which I suspected I had despite the doctor’s “no” last week.  My nerves were a bit on edge, as anybody’s would be when having to deal with pain for extended days,

I spent the morning putting the finishing touches on a couple of projects that had recently come off of my knitting needles.  I’ll post pictures of those in a week or so.

Then, I headed to the plastic surgeon’s office.

I didn’t have to wait long to be seen – a refreshing thing given that so many offices double-book their patients.

Do you remember when I posted last week and described the doctor?

Well y’all, he was in rare form during my visit yesterday.

In the middle of taking out my stitches, which hurt like crap, by the way, and made my forehead bleed, the doctor began sniffing me.

I kid you not.

Not discreetly either.

Loud sniffs.

Last week, after a friend read my blog and called me to get more details, she guessed the name of the doctor and explained that he was from Louisiana – a true Coona$$ (if you know what I mean).

That explained the cursing . . .

And the fact that he likened himself to a dog (a hunting dog, in my opinion).

He explained that he smelled something and was trying to figure out what it was.

I lifted one of my wrists, and he began asking me questions about it.

He loved the oil.  A lot.

He said that his wife probably wouldn’t let him order it.  I told him that as The Doctor, he could order what he wanted.  I guarantee that’s what the Mr. would do.  Heck, he’s not a doctor, and he orders what he wants.  Ha!

The doctor applied a new bandage as I talked.

I wish I’d thought to take a picture before he put it on.  I didn’t get to see my head after he removed the stitches.

As he finished up, I told him about the unrelenting headache I’d been suffering from, and he said that I probably had Post-Concussion Syndrome – that I’d most likely bruised my brain a little last week.

Fortunately, I had landed on this during my morning’s research, so I understood what he was talking about.

He explained that bruising the brain is no different from when you bruise another part of your body.  It takes time to heal; in the meantime, there’s going to be pain.

He also told me that there wasn’t much I could do for it except for rest, which I’d been doing for a solid week.  Ugh.

He wrote me a couple of prescriptions for migraine medicine – one to take during the day and one to help me sleep.

I’ll give these a go for a couple of weeks and then switch over to Tylenol or Excedrin if I’m still having headaches.

Meanwhile, I’m still not working out, which the doctor agreed with.  He told me to imagine how bad of a headache I’d have if I started the workout with one.   I’m going to give myself another week and reevaluate on Tuesday.

I’ve read that it can take up to 100 days to get over a concussion for a person who is moderately active, which I’ll have to be soon with school starting back the middle of August.

My 80 Day Obsession is going to turn into the 100 Day Obsession if things keep on like this.

Sigh.

For now, I’ll continue sporting a bandage until it falls off and will soon begin massaging my forehead, per the doctor’s instructions, to work out the scar tissue.

Fun times, y’all.

More fodder for this blog of mine.

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