Vicodin, Take Me Away!

AKA - "I think I broke my coccyx."

Not really, but it felt that way last night. We had an incredibly busy Saturday that culminated in birthday dinner at one of my favorite steak restaurants followed by a holiday party at the house of my friend M. It had snowed the day before creating an idyllic winter wonderland (and making it ridiculously slippery.)

My wife bought a new dress and accessorized it with some black "hooker heels" (very hot - really.) Admittedly this was not the best combination for a winter night, but we like to live dangerously. At the end of the night I suggested my wife wait in the driveway while I go retrieve the car. Damn, it was chilly. Especially since I decided to leave the winter coat at home. I trotted quickly to the car, opened the driver side door, went to step in and ended up flat on my back.

I landed on my ass so fricking hard it knocked the wind out of me. There I was rolling over and over in the snow-covered road, in my sportcoat and dress pants. I couldn't call out to anyone, so I just lay there, trying to get my shit back together and wondering how in the hell I was going to stand up and get in the car with a broken coccyx.

I got myself up to hands and knees, got my hand on the door handle and gingerly climbed into the driver's seat. I still didn't have my breathing back to normal and when my wife got in the car she immediately knew something was wrong. (She might have known something was wrong when she was waiting for 5 minutes for a trip that should have taken me 30 seconds.)

Driving home, wondering how I'm going to get out of the car, I started to get a damn migraine. I don't know if the fall triggered it or what, but it started coming on fast and that's never good.  When I finally got home it was straight to the medicine cabinet for "Vitamin V."

So now I sit here, feeling like I'm hungover, but without any of the fun usually associated with this feeling.

"Honey, will you please get me a couple more Vicodin?"