Not too deep!

Apparently, mothers do not like to have their evenings interrupted by the words "It's not that deep, is it?"

At least Mom doesn't.

I was in the bathroom and I wobbled a bit as I stood to transfer back to my wheelchair. My head smacked into the wall, which was fine -- a little love pat, whatever. I'm hard-headed.

But then my head slid down the wall as I sat on my chair. Uh oh. The grab bar near the toilet is mounted onto a 1-4 length of wood that has nice pointy corners. And my head ran right into one.

I figured I was OK because when I put my hand up to feel for blood it came away clean ... at first. Then the blood started to trickle out, but it wasn't gushing.

Still, I figured I better ask Mom.

I got the answer right away, when she answered my question with her own: "What's not deep?" It couldn't be too bad if it wasn't noticeable, right? Apparently, though, Mom didn't feel so good about it. She told my sister that it was at this point that she wanted to throw up, but I was relieved.

I had missed Sarah Michelle Gellar's return to TV on Tuesday, the online version was not close captioned, and I didn't want to miss the encore presentation of Ringer last night while I sat in an ER.

When she saw the cut she grabbed some tissue and agreed it wasn't too deep. She kept asking what I was doing. It took some explaining, perhaps because whenever anyone asks this, my first, second and third responses tend to be sarcastic reminders that I have Friedreich's ataxia.

She cleaned it up and added a bandage (two generic terms in one post!). It's fine, and most importantly Ringer and SMG were great.