Housework can be dangerous to your health

I don't want to say I'm clumsy, but looking over my list of ideas for these stories, it seems that many of them involve me injuring myself. And this one is no different.

Unexpectedly, I lost my full-time job in 2004. No one saw it coming and I packed up my office which took me all afternoon because I lived at my office. When I "moved" home, I had no place to put my stuff and with lots of time on my hands, I decided to do some serious spring cleaning.

I decided to start in my bedroom. As I began digging out, I made stacks and piles to be moved to other places. I have a bad habit of tossing books on the floor when I finish reading them. So as I worked my way alongside my bed I piled the books behind me. As I finished up on that side of the bed, I began backing up, big mistake! I didn't see the pile of books behind me, tripped over them, sending them flying in every direction, but even worse I went flying too, like a turkey with a broken wing. I reeled into the side of my bed - a waterbed with wooden sideboards. Oomph! I hit the board with my ribs. But like a crazy ball, I kept bouncing, ricocheting off anything in my path; next a banged into a small cabinet bruising my shins and knocking it over, of course it had been covered in knick-knacks and they too went airborn. The noise was deafening, argh, wham, crash, oomph, bang. As I attempted to stop my fall -I stuck out my hand but crushed my fingers between myself and the wall. Snap, ow!

I ended in a lump on the floor. My children came running and stood over me staring as I lay on the floor assessing the damage. It hurt to breathe, my pinkie finger was quickly swelling and my shins hurt. Plus, I was going to have to pick up all of my stuff again. Once my kids saw that I was still alive, they hightailed it out of there before they were roped into helping me clean up.

You'd think I'd learned my lesson that day, but no. The next day I decided to tackle the big bookcases in my living. I had four of them along one wall. I had never cleaned behind them in 5 years and I had never taken all of the books down and dusted. I usually just ran a cloth over and in front of the books.

A side note - I had three white Persian cats and a lab mix dog which makes for a lot of hair. Plus we lived near some type of steel foundry that leaves a fine coat of dust on everything. Not a good combination for someone with allergies as I do.

I gathered my dusting supplies and started pulling books off the first bookcase. I was doing well until I got to the second one. My eyes were starting to water and my nose was stuffy. I kept going, it was just allergies, a little dust wasn't going to kill me.

By the third bookcase, my cats had decided to help me and were crawling on me, the books and the shelves. I was working on the lower shelves and was sitting on the floor. I was moving slower than normal because of the injuries I suffered the day before, otherwise I might have already been done and my exposure to the allergens, limited, but two hours later I was still working. My eyes were now starting to swell shut, tears streaming down my dust-coated face. I was breathing out of my mouth and...oh no...I felt the first sneeze building.

Achoo! Argh. I sneezed and my ribs ached. Not another one, I tried to stifle the sneeze to no avail. Snot was flying; I couldn't see and grabbed my dust cloth to wipe my nose. I got a lungful of Pledge fumes and dust. This set off more sneezing and I promptly peed my pants. Crap! I struggled to my feet and staggered toward the bathroom. ACHOO! As I walked through the doorway, I sneezed again, an expecially strong one this time and slammed my head into the door jam - face first. The edge creasing my forehead.

I made it to the bathroom and got cleaned up. I was a bit concerned, I didn't have a bump, but a dent in my forehead. But I didn't think too much about it because it didn't really hurt and I got ready for my night class.

Things were as good as could be with bruised ribs, a sprained finger and a crease running from my eyebrow to my hair line. Then I stood up in front of my class. The back row was fuzzy, I swayed a little and grasp the podium.

"Professor?" I heard one of my students call my name as I quickly sat down. A call to one of the nursing instructors down the hall, confirmed I had probably given myself a concussion and I should go home preferably to a padded rubber room.