Can you sense my excitement? Yes? I’ve never been so happy to see my office in all my working life. I’ve been off work for over a week thanks to a back injury. Thanks to God, I’m back on my feet. How did I hurt my back?
Two Thursdays ago I’d just woken up and was dragging my half asleep self to the bathroom when I missed a step, tripped and went flying head first towards the bathroom door. After bashing my head, I landed quite dramatically on my backside. I passed out. When I came back round, I picked myself up and carried on with the day’s business. My back felt a little sore but it was to be expected, I’d just fallen. It wasn’t till I got on the train and couldn’t sit without cringing, I realised there was a problem. Halfway through the day I had to leave the office, sitting upright was torture. I spent the weekend doped up on painkillers.
By the Sunday of that weekend, I felt a little better and my gentleman friend and I went shopping for a bookshelf and shoe cupboard. He was halfway through the assembly when he had to leave. He warned me to wait for him but stubborn MEE decided I didn’t need a man to do my DIY. I completed the tasks to my peril. By the time I went to bed I was in agony. I was determined to go to work on the Monday though, I had a box of toasted coconut shortbread delivered in my absence and my colleagues were threatening to attack it. Against my better judgment I hopped on the train.
I was a few stops into the journey when the pain became unbearable. I wanted to scream. Mind over matter I told myself. It didn’t work. Slowly my vision became blurred and then I passed out.
“Can you hear me?!”
“Can someone pull the passenger alarm, this lady is unconscious, she’s having a seizure!”
Seizure, who is having a seizure?! I opened my eyes to investigate and the first thing I noticed was my handbag in the laps of the woman sitting next to me. She has my bag because? I couldn’t speak though, the pain was way too intense. Hang on, why is everyone gawking at me? Snap. I’m the one supposedly having a seizure.
They pulled the alarm, the station staff came onboard and an off duty police officer in the carriage rushed to my aid. They managed to get me up but walking was agony. Every time my feet hit the ground, it was like being electrocuted. I got to the station manager’s office and immediately lay on the ground.
“Hi, my name is Samantha, I’m a police officer. Can you tell me what your name is?”
I told her. In a bid to keep me talking, she started asking a series of questions and I told her all about the initial fall and my DIY activities.
“You’re a brave girl, attempting to go to work when you’re in so much pain!”
“You don’t understand, I have a box of Dean’s toasted coconut shortbread waiting for me on my desk!”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Then you won’t understand.”
I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining why Dean’s toasted coconut shortbread is the best shortbread in the world; the smoky taste of the coconut shreds, the way the biscuit crumbles and melts in your mouth.
“The biscuit is really light and doesn’t stick to the roof of your mouth like that nasty stuff they sell in the supermarkets. They only sell it in novelty stores in Scotland you know, I had to order them online. £5 the delivery cost me, £5! It’s worth it if you buy in bulk though. ”
The poor officer didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned. The paramedics finally arrived and carted me off to A&E, with the officer in tow. Throughout the journey, they kept trying to make conversation to keep me talking but I wasn’t interested. I kept mumbling the same sentence over and over again.
“Those guys had better not eat my shortbread!”
Sometimes I worry about myself.