Open Writing

The filing cabinet struck me very forcibly on the right side of my face, taking me completely by surprise. The word painful does not do justice to how I felt. It seemed as though there was a multitude of extremely strong dwarfs inside my head, each one merrily wielding a pickaxe.

I found myself wondering, as I stumbled to the mirror to see what damage had been done, how this had happened.
There was not a mark to be seen. Surely I hadn’t passed out?

I took two painkillers, and went back to work at the computer. The pain gradually eased. About an hour later, typing on the keyboard, I became aware that my fingers felt sticky. Looking down, I saw they were covered with blood. This was certainly turning out to be a very peculiar day. What on earth had happened now? Where was the blood coming from?

I headed back to the mirror to see if I had missed anything. A panda looked back at me.

I had a cut over my left eye, another at my right. And I had obviously rubbed my eyes with both fists. The effect was quite comical. I couldn’t help smiling through my discomfiture.

At last it dawned. I must have had a couple of fits.

If you have received no warning that such things can occur life can be very entertaining when they do. If you keep your sense of humour you can survive. I do envy those folk who get a ten minute premonition though. You can do an amazing amount in ten minutes if you know you are going to fall down and start thrashing about, or “chewing the carpet” as my husband calls it. You can put cushions on the floor and turn on the radio to your favourite music, so that you can recover to pleasing sounds. And you know what has happened when you come round.

Me? I have no idea what’s happened until half an hour after the event. This leads to some very difficult and embarrassing situations.

I phoned my husband at work to report that I believed I had been chewing the carpet. It was really most infuriating. We had planned to go to the theatre that night, and I didn’t want to miss it. By the time he came home I had an enormous black eye.

“I can’t take you out like that!” he exclaimed. “People will think I’ve beaten you up.”

I tried to argue against this decision, but he said to me kindly “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m on the floor with you!” I said happily.

He sighed. “Do you know how you came to be on the floor?”

“Well… I presume I lay down?’’

Not the right answer.

“More carpet?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I think you should go to bed, and have a lie down. Get some rest, and you’ll feel better.”

I meekly did as I was told. I tried to cheer myself up by thinking about some of the ridiculous things that had happened.

I had been in church. Usually, I was the organist, but, recently bereaved, felt it would be better to sit quietly in the body of the Kirk. This choice was at least fortunate for the remaining congregation, who were quite disturbed enough when I hit the deck at the end of the second hymn. What kind of racket I could have made at the organ I shudder to think.

Now, time has no meaning when you are out cold, and false assumptions can be made. I cannot see for a short time afterwards, which adds to the disorientation. I remember being offered water. This, for some reason in my confused state, meant we were in the church hall. Struggling to regain my feet, while at the same time being told just to stay still, caused quite a commotion. People were quite careless about the amount of noise that was being made, or I was very sensitive. I decided that this amount of noise could only mean that the service was finished.

As a phoenix rises from the ashes, so I eventually emerged erect from this fracas. I was astounded to find that I was still in the church and the minister was still in the pulpit. I had no idea we were only 15 minutes into the service.

“How nice of him to wait until I was finished, when he has his lunch to go home to,” I remember thinking. Some gesture was required from me. Some little thing to make him know I appreciated his thoughtfulness. I considered carefully what I could offer.

Eventually, I decided.

Shaking off those who tried to restrain me, I walked into the aisle. Holding my skirts full out, I curtsied low, and asked loudly and clearly:

“How’s that for a grand finale?”