The dangers of bathrooms are well-documented. They have hard surfaces. There is water. There is soap. There are germs. They could be posted with CAUTION: Danger Ahead signs. I can attest to the inherent dangers of bathrooms. I was injured without suds, germs or water. No, I took a tumble. I wasn’t rambunctious, nor was I careless -- I was asleep. It is a particular quirk of my sleeping pattern that, yes, I sleep talk, I sleep walk, I even sleep cook. Last night, I woke up on, or about the time, my head hit the floor. I do not know what led up to my trip to the ground. These precise distinctions were more important than I realized I later discovered. I had an emergency room doctor grill me on the details. He wanted to know if I was seated or standing when I fell. Shrug. Did I lose consciousness? I couldn’t tell him. He was quite good-natured, suggesting I google a recent movie about a man who sleepwalks and the extents to which he goes to deal with it. (Sleepwalking, 2008).
The E.R. doc said he wasn’t ready to suggest I wear a helmet to bed, but, in the movie, the star climbed into a sleeping bag tied at the neck, with mittens to limit his ability to unzip the sleeping bag. Imprisonment in a sleeping bag doesn’t seem like a real solution. I have scheduled a followup appointment with the sleep specialist. I don’t have a much better strategy than that. Until then, I’m in lock-down mode. With a headache. And a bump on my kanoggen!
