In between bouts of throwing up, vertigo, and a massive headache, I’ve been trying to piece the events of my fall together — for my own sake. I emailed a friend who works at the gym to ask if my fall was witnessed. Did I lose consciousness? Did I tumble?
In a search for answers, my email was forwarded to the staff supervisor, who called me. It seems that she (Sue) was the staff member who helped me. As she relayed the information around the event, some of it came back.
The answer: The fall was witnessed by another member. I did not tumble. Nor did I appear to catch my foot or trip. I just fell. I did not lose consciousness.
Apparently, when Sue was assisting me, I denied hitting my head. I stated that my head didn’t hurt when it was palpated. I said that I embarrassed and fell because I was lost in thoughts around my husband’s passing. They gave me orange juice, some water, and bandaged my pinkie finger because it was bleeding. When I got on the phone with Lil Sis and began crying, Sue left me to allow me some privacy. She’d already been with me for 15 minutes.
Sue felt horrible to find out that I’d had a concussion after all.
My quest for answers was not a complete loss. I actually dreamed about my fall. One could look at it as a nightmare I suppose. Although I don’t know if it is the truth, the dream served as the most logical explanation for my injuries.
In my dream, I’d already fallen. Right away, I tried to get up. My hands were in the front section of the treadmill (where the belt is covered). But when I lifted my body, my head hit the control panel above. I fell back onto my right thigh. The back of my lower leg immediately caught the belt and I was whipped around. I banged the left side of my head on the side bar as I road the belt to the end.
I don’t know if it’s an accurate account, but it’s all I’ve got.