I knew it was there

It had been there for two weeks.  In my bedroom.

The vacuum.

Prior to my vacation, I cleaned the whole house.  I like to come home to tidy.  I stopped at my bedroom, though, thinking that I'd finish up after I got unpacked at my return; I'll finish vacuuming and put the machine away.

Did.  Not.  Happen.

The Sears tank stayed on the floor in the middle of my bedroom awaiting the finish of the housecleaning that was never completed.  It was sort of just there. 

I started to just ignore it.  I'd step over the hose on my way in and out of the room in these days after my return.  No big.  I'd get to it, this vacuuming thing.....sometime.

Comes this last Sunday night, I get up out of bed in the darkness to visit the loo....

(you're ahead of me on this, aren't you, reader)

and when I come back into my room, I step on the vacuum hose I should have remembered was there.

Yep.

I went down.

On one hand.

140 lbs of old dame. 

One one hand. 

Craa-aack.

I felt and heard stuff happening from my wrist up to my elbow.  I saw stars.

Christ.

Today:

This is an injured wrist

and the other side:

This is an injured arm

It keeps getting more of a technicolor hue as time passes.  I can write with this hand, but I can't open a door.  I can't use a screwdriver, but I can scratch my nose.  It's difficult to take care of business after "the business" in the bathroom.  Even simpler:  have you ever tried to brush your teeth with your left if you're a righty? 

A challenge.

I work for a doctor.  I think she's appalled.