Bonehead Fred.

The saga of Fred's Concussion continues...

When we left off yesterday it was Sunday night -- don't worry, we'll speed things up soon. My wife, having determined that, despite the medical advice of noted surgeon Hawkeye Pierce, you don't need to keep a person with a concussion awake to make sure they don't die, sent me to bed around 10:30. Everything was spinning as I crawled up the stairs and crashed onto the bed. I was hoping for all I was worth that this was just another case of vertigo, which I've had before; it lasts as little as eight hours, so I might be fine by morning.

It was not vertigo; I was not fine by morning. I was a little bit better, and I had a huge deadline Wednesday.

My wife thought it would be a good idea to see the doctor, but I couldn't bear the thought of hanging around his waiting room as I was. Our doctor is brilliant, but he is as slow as a sloth driving a dynamite truck through a molasses-coated school zone.

Go to the hospital instead? No, why do that? I was feeling better! And I was -- in that I could sit up and not throw up. So I got to work.

It was a day I would not wish to repeat. I felt terrible, dizzy, and naps did not stop the sleepiness. I alerted my dear blog readers that I had been hurt; I also sent notes to my most active clients that I would be mostly unavailable. For the big Wednesday deadline, I got an extension to Friday. And spent Monday working on that book. My wife took care of the dogs and everything else. She was an absolute angel.

I knew I was in bad shape, though, when I realized I couldn't eat. I really had no appetite at all, and if you're a regular on this site, you know that's serious. I choked down a couple of Belvita snacks to get through the day, and at night my wife made me a can of Manhattan clam chowder -- and it all might as well have been sawdust. It was the hardest can of soup I ever ate; it could hardly have been harder if I'd had to actually eat the can itself.

I agreed to go to the urgicare center in the morning.

Maybe get some
stylish bandages

I managed to shower on Tuesday, although that too was tricky. My wife drove, of course; she let me out of the car at the door while she went to park, and I checked in, feeling shaky on my pins. I tried to smile and be friendly but I wondered how long I could stand at the counter. Everyone was nice, though, and within half an hour I was being examined by a friendly young doctor who said yessirree, it was a mild concussion. Had I lost consciousness? No. Horrible headaches? A persistent 3 on the pain scale. Ringing in the ears? No. He checked my reflexes, my eyes and ears, even felt around the ol' skulleroo, and was of the opinion that I had no internal bleeding or bone breakage and would not need to have a CAT scan -- yet. If my symptoms got worse, sure. BUT: No driving for two weeks, and no screen time.

WHUH?

Screen time is basically how I make my living; very few jobs come in on paper anymore. Everything is done on my laptop. I could forego watching TV, although I was eager for the next thrilling episode of Antiques Roadshow; I could read a book instead of playing with my phone. I could even put my blog on hiatus and give up reading Lileks's site for two weeks, heartbreaking as it was. But as a freelancer, if I don't work, I don't get paid.

Well, I did work that week, some, enough to get that deadline finished (it required a LOT of screen time, BTW), but I was taking naps. All the same, there was none of that relaxation you think you'll enjoy when you feel well but are overworked ("I just want a mild cold so I can spend a couple days chillin'!"). There was a lot of guilt. If I hadn't been so absentminded, so careless, none of this would have happened. My wife had to do everything, tend the dogs, do the cooking, everything, all while working her demanding job. More than ever, she was winning the bread and keeping the wolf from the door. And I? Well, if you follow the rules, the best treatment for a concussion is to do absolutely nothing and do it in a dark room. No TV, no computer, no physical activities, no driving, no supermarkets, no cooking, no reading -- basically nothing.

Uh-oh! What will this mean? Will I die of boredom? Will I play a video game and stroke out? Will we STARVE? Tune in tomorrow for our final chapter: "Dumb Skull" or "Noggin on Heaven's Door"!