He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. —Psalm 113:9

February 10, 2009

In which Jean is a moron and a bathtub is not a bed.

I had another fainting spell last night. This one was entirely my own fault, and not one of my proudest moments. I was having Woman Issues, you see, and so I started the evening off by taking some Pamprin, pouring myself a glass of Franzia Red Sangria, because we are poor now and that is what we drink, and settling into bed with my heating pad and Heroes, and all was well.

Then Husband made a late dinner of spicy enchiladas. Since the sangria had a relatively low alcohol content, I thought I'd have another glass with dinner. And then when the main flavor of said dinner turned out to be PAIN, and I saw my glass was getting low, I topped it off, and drank it down. When that didn't make my mouth stop burning, I opted for a beer, too distracted by my mouth being on fire to remember that I had taken a painkiller that thinned my blood, and had already had three glasses of wine, and also that I am a lightweight. I think you can see where this is going.

Now, if I had stopped there, everything would have been fine. I was definitely tipsy, a little impaired, but still functional. Except, apparently, not functional enough to make wise decisions about mixing medication with alcohol, because I went ahead and took the drug cocktail that my doctor concocted to help me sleep properly and, to top it off, a couple of Benadryl, because when I don't take Benadryl before bedtime I always wake up with painfully swollen eyes and a sinus headache.

Even so, looking back, I'm pretty sure the Benadryl was the clincher.

By the time I went through my nighttime rituals and got into bed, things were starting to spin a little, and I kind of wanted to heave whenever I closed my eyes. But eventually that feeling settled down enough for me to go to sleep, and all was well. Or was it?

Apparently it was not, because according to my husband, some time in the middle of the night I got up to go get a drink of water, and soon after he heard a thump and a thud, and got up to find me out cold in the bathtub. It scared the bejeezus out of him, but he managed to wake me up and get me back to bed okay, and no trips to the ER were warranted like with my last fainting spell.

This morning, I have a bruised ankle and a vague recollection of lying in the tub with Husband leaning over me, along with a sense of complete and utter shame at my stupidity and at scaring my husband like that. But otherwise, I'm just dandy! I think I'll be laying off the wine before bedtime for a while, though.

1 comment:

The Bumbles said...

I crashed into a bathtub once and tore down the shower curtain in the process but those were in college party years. Your incident is much more innocent. A bit scary but innocent. Lucky you didn't break any bones. Or pass out while taken a bath and drown. See? It could always be worse.

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