dr_pretentious | Rise and Shine(r)

"This is what I'm throwing at you, Mommy," said the cheery voice of my three-year-old. Not the first words one wants to hear on a Monday morning.

Fortunately, I didn't open my eyes before the rubber mallet clonked me squarely on the eyebrow. I saw stars, just like in the old cartoons, though not the little flappy birds.

When I described the origin of the purpling goose egg on my forehead to the doctor, my mother chimed in, "We call this kid Captain Sunshine." That may be one reason the doc never asked about domestic violence. Or maybe because, if an adult had delivered that blow, it would probably have fractured the orbital bone of my skull. As it was, no concussion, no fracture.

"Just a head injury. Don't trifle with it, but you don't need to fear it." So far so good. But then: "Don't try to concentrate on anything for a couple of days," said the doctor. "No reading, no writing, no computer, no close work that could cause eyestrain, and no strenuous physical activity with the kids."

My mother and I burst into gales of laughter. What else is there?

"I suppose," I said, "I shouldn't play football for a couple of weeks."

The doctor tried to get off with just a light smirk, until Mom knocked him over with, "Could you write a note for her coach?"

"You might want to sit out the next couple of games," said the doctor. "You need to be watched carefully until we know where this is going."

As it turned out, it was possible to go without much reading, writing, etc., because my left eye swelled shut until last night, and until this afternoon I couldn't stay awake for much more than an hour at a stretch.

The driven part of me said, If Tina Turner could go on stage and perform "Proud Mary" in this condition, surely I can finish my galley proofs. My admiration for Tina Turner's fortitude has only increased. My galley proofs are still not turned around. I wonder what stupid thing Murphy's Law will throw at me next to delay the novella collection.

As for watching me carefully to see which way things went, had I been in the company of anyone other than my family, I'd probably have been called delirious.

While I wasn't fit to drive, my sister took a day off to chauffeur me and amuse my children. At one point I teased her for using her cell phone while driving.

"Everyone in Montgomery County uses their cell phones while driving," she said. "Welcome to MoCo."

"You know about the new state law, right?" I said. "Just holding the phone while you drive is a ticketing offense now."

"I am not about to get a ticket. Do you see the po-po?" she replied with a self-mocking chuckle.

The po-po? I had no idea what I was about to say until my mouth blurted out: "No Mo MoCo Po-po; Pomo Afro Homos!"

Because who wouldn't like a bit of fabulous performance art? Even the most socially conservative people I know would probably prefer it over getting pulled over for a traffic ticket.

Nope, not delirious, honest. It's not a bug, it's a feature.