Tiles and Knees

“Hope! Hope,” for that is what she calls me. “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in my bed!”

Only I wasn’t in my bed. I was on her kitchen floor in Florida. An unforgiving, white tile floor I might add. A trickle of blood from my chin had added color to my hands, my thighs.

“No, you’re not,” she screamed. “You’re on the floor!” All I could think of was how good the cool tile floor felt against my sweaty body. I had tried to sit up but just wanted to lie back down on the icy tiles. Mom wouldn’t have it. She roused me.
“What happened? What happened?”

I don’t know if I answered. I was struggling to figure out what happened. Slowly, it dawned. Dehydration. Ah, the power of water.

I had flown to Florida to spend a few days with my Mom after a grueling series of weeks rehearsing and performing in the Flagpole Radio Café, rehearsing and launching our own theatre company, Stray Kats, and doing it all with the constant pain of a torn meniscus and arthritis under my left kneecap. My blood pressure had begun creeping up so my Doctor had changed my medication. Then the TSA agents made me throw my water away. I got some on the plane but it wasn’t enough. The next day was filled with an attempt to repair my flagging computer, family visits, and a happy hour visit where they served two drinks even if you didn’t order the second. Naturally, I drank both. At five a.m., thirsty enough to be roused from my sleep, I went to the kitchen for water. Dizziness consumed me so I quickly filled my glass and started back to bed. I didn’t feel the fall. I didn’t feel as my knees, left shoulder and the left side of my face hit the tiles. I truly thought I was in bed. Only the next day did I truly feel the effects of what I can only liken to whiplash after a car crash.

I refused medical attention (the temperature had finally climbed out of winter numbers to an invitational mid-seventies) and proceeded to down copious amounts of water. I flew home two days later and was greeted by a horrified husband and son who MADE me promise to see my Doctor. I did, on Monday. An EKG and an MRI later, I have been pronounced “Okay”. It’s a good thing too! The knee surgery is this afternoon.