Yesterday I gave blood at a special blood drive sponsored by the Caps (who apparently did not bother to come to their own game today, alas). I've given lots and lots of blood over the years with nary a problem.
No problem this time, either -- at least for the rest of the day. We had lunch with Mom and the rest of the family, I met a pal for a movie and a snack afterward, and I came home to settle in for the evening.
I've picked up (AGAIN!) a bit of a cough, so I took some cough syrup around 9:00.
Some codeine cough syrup.
At 10:00, Caddyshack come on the box, which is required viewing Chez Red Nose, but I saw about, oh, five minutes of it before I blanked out the TV and sank into slumber. After the movie was over, I roused myself from the arms of Morpheus, and Joe and I headed up to bed.
I got to the bathroom first. I rinsed off my nightguard, put it in my mouth, drank a little water, and sat down on the toilet for a final time before bed.
Suddenly I felt kinda woozy. Not my usual spinny dizziness, but the kind of abrupt spots-before-the-eyes wooziness that means your brain is about to shut down NOW. I put my head between my knees as Joe (who was brushing his teeth beside me) joked, "What? Are you bearing down or something?"
The next thing I remember is Joe saying, "Baby! Baby! Mary! Talk to me!" I heard him, but I couldn't respond. I just knew that he was yelling at me and that I was uncomfortable because something hard was underneath me.
I honestly thought I was in bed. But no; I was on the bathroom floor.
Yes, friends, I pulled an Elvis, only without the dying. I passed out and fell off the toilet onto the bathroom floor, with Joe standing right there with a mouth full of toothpaste. The thing that was making me uncomfortable was the bathroom scale.
Joe tried to help me up and I tried to cooperate, but it didn't work and I went back down on the floor in a heap. He said, "I'm going to call an ambulance."
At this point I think I said something like, "Just help me get to bed."
I managed to get up, and Joe walked me toward the bedroom, but I didn't make it. Once more onto the floor, yup. This time, though, I was a little more with it. Joe helped me up again and steered me into bed. He noticed that I had some road rash on my knee, so he got the peroxide and the band-aids and fixed me up. By then I was finally fully conscious. We talked a bit; I asked questions and he filled me on my fainting spell. I was thinking clearly again. I realized that being a pint low on blood probably didn't mix well with codeine.
I decided I really didn't need an ambulance.
Joe got me an ice pack for my knee and a drink of water. We talked some more and then we went to sleep.
This morning I was pretty much fine. My knees are creaky and sore, and I have a pretty impressive bruise on my hip.
Fainting ain't for sissies.