I am "that girl"

Our family recently took a spontaneous trip to Utah for the funeral of Ben's grandmother, who finally ended her long health battle a few weeks ago. Because of time constraints and Ben's work schedule, we flew, which was much less of an adventure than we expected with a two-and-a-half-year-old.

We came home on Wednesday this week. We got to the airport that morning, and waited through the security line. Between the three of us, we had five carry-ons (including a laptop), a stroller, a car seat, and all our shoes (which, in case you've been living under a rock for the last nine years, must be taken off prior to passing through the metal detectors), not to mention that one of us had to carry Julie through, if only to keep her in place on the other side.

I went through first with Julie. Ben opened up the laptop, and waited to come through the detectors until after they'd reviewed all our things, in case there was a problem. Our things started to come through on the belt: tote bag, purse, tote bag, backpack, stroller, car seat, shoes, laptop bag, laptop. Once I could get it, I grabbed the stroller. I was holding Julie on my left hip, so with my right hand, I unfolded and sort-of shook out the stroller (a cheapola umbrella style one). I set it down and put my foot our to lock the bar into place between the legs, so that I could strap Julie in and then start to gather our things.

My sock got caught on the latch. I tried to shake it free, but my balance was slightly off because I was holding Julie. My heart started to race and I was a little nervous. I tried to shake my sock free, and as the latch locked into place, I began to fall backward.

Maternal instinct kicked in, and I knew I was going to be quite hurt, because my focus was making sure Julie didn't get hurt. I felt like I was falling in slow motion. I've fallen before, and been more injured than I was this week, and not felt like it was slow motion, but this time I did.

I felt my head hit the floor -- the tiled-with-concrete-under-it floor -- with a sickening thud. I heard my glasses bounce off somewhere behind me, and I heard several gasps. Then I think I blacked out for a few seconds. Julie's screaming snapped me out of it. When I opened my eyes, the room was spinning, and, like in a movie where someone falls, faints or blacks out, I saw several blurry faces pop in over my head from every direction. The blurriness may have been from not having my glasses, but I don't think that was entirely it.

As Julie's crying registered not just in my ears, but in my brain, I realized that her foot and leg were trapped under my back. I sat up sooner and quicker than I should have -- knowingly so. I needed to get her out from under me, and handed off to Ben so that she could be checked and reassured. I knew I should have waited, but I chose not to. I'd live, but she needed help calming down, since she didn't understand the situation.

I was dizzy as I sat up, which I expected to be. I knew better than to get up right away, so I just sat there for a minute or two, after Ben took Julie from me. I knew where I was, I knew when I was, and I knew who I was. I even knew why I had fallen. The spot on my head where I'd hit was still hard, not soft, and I had no nausea or dizziness after the initial too-fast-too-soon sitting up. Neither Julie nor I were bleeding; I decided I didn't have a concussion, and although in pain, I would be fine.

I declined to be evaluated by an EMT, mostly because I didn't want to risk being told not to get on a plane, when we were really ready to go home. I knew it wasn't the wisest choice, but it was mine to make, and Ben didn't push the matter (and he has pretty extensive first aid and injury training working with the Boy Scouts). Looking back, I probably should have seen the EMT, if only to get some ice for my head.

We gathered our things, and moved quickly (as quickly as I could) to a bench, where we sat for several minutes. Ben held onto Julie, who was still confused and shaken up, and I leaned on the stroller to steady myself as I walked. As we sat down, I finally started to cry, and I don't think I stopped for at least five minutes. I was really emotional. By the time I stopped crying, the pain from the back of my head had started to move around to my forehead. There was no drinking fountain in sight, and I was too shook up still to swallow pills dry. Because of security measures, we didn't have any liquid within either sight or reach. Ben knew there was a fountain at the top of the elevator, though. We weren't far from the elevator on our floor, so we headed that way and went up. I took a couple of Motrin about 10 minutes after the fall, and while they eventually dulled the pain in front, they didn't help a whole lot.

Of course our gate was at the far far end of the concourse, so we had far to walk, and we took it slowly. Once we got down there, and unloaded all our stuff onto chairs, I left to go back to the bathroom. Once done, I splashed water on my face, knowing it would help. I looked at my hands, which were -- surprisingly -- steady and not at all shaky. By the time I got back to Ben, he observed that my color was back. I felt better on that walk back -- a little faster gait, and not so wary.

Normally I'm fine flying. I was really nervous that day. I hate throwing up, and I was already hurting and achy; I really didn't want to be airsick. Fortunately, I didn't. The elevation and pressure changes affected me much more than usual, however. Not really in the nausea department, just in the I-really-don't-like-how-this-is-making-me-feel-overall department, and definitely somewhat in my head. I tried to lean back on the chair to sleep, but even the light pressure from resting my head on the cushion hurt. Ben leaned to the side on Julie's car seat, and I put my sweater on his shoulder and leaned on him. I slept for an hour, and felt much better when I woke up.

Anyway, the rest of the day, I ate fine, I eventually started joking again, and I was mostly fine. The pain eventually turned to a migraine by the time we landed in Cleveland, but Dr. Pepper helped with that. I just really didn't like the sudden jumps it felt like we were making in the air.

The next day (yesterday), I noticed as I tossed and turned in bed in the morning, that my abs really hurt as I turned from one side to another. Throughout the day, they became more and more sore as I stood up from the couch, or if I laughed, coughed, or sneezed. I concluded that I must have clenched my abs hard as I went down, in my effort to not let Julie get hurt. I also was really sore and tense all day yesterday in my neck and shoulders, and even the front of my neck. Today, I'm a little sore in the back of my neck still, and the spot where I hit it still painful if I press on it, but I'm feeling much better today.

Ben told me once we were on the plain, that I hit pretty loudly. He could hear it before he realized it was me. TSA stopped letting people through the metal detectors until they could assess the situation, including Ben. He had to yell at the agent to get her attention to let him through.

So if you were going through security in the Salt Lake City airport on Wednesday morning around 8:20, and you heard a loud thud and people talking about someone who fell, it was me. I'm that girl who fell in the airport.