So as soon as my concussion healed I wound up with a killer cold. Have I told the I Got a Concussion while Belly Dancing story? No? Okay, fine, I’ll tell it, but only because you asked so nicely.
I was practicing sword dancing–that it, belly dancing with a sword balanced on my head. Or hip, shoulder, chest, wrist, or chin, but mostly the head because that’s what looks coolest. It was going quite well. I’ve found that dancing with a sword has improved my belly dance technique in general, but especially my isolations. But then I remembered I was supposed to meet my friend Quin at a movie theater (coincidentally the movie theater at the shopping center where I play Spot-the-Orthodox-Women, not that that’s mildly offensive or anything) so I had to rush out. I put my sword down like the graceful dancer I am, turned around, reached down the the floor so I could grab my bag and head out of the room in one fluid, elegant motion, and…
…smacked my temple right into the sword that was balanced on a fellow dancer’s head.
I am the most graceful one.
I might have blacked out a little at that point because I don’t remember the next few seconds. All I remember is rushing out the door while crying a little (I have issues about things and people touching my head, I’ll discuss those some other time) and ignoring everyone else trying to find out if I was okay, because for some reason I thought going to the movie was more important than, you know, checking to see that my eyes were dilating properly.
I ended up having a minor emotional breakdown at Ty’s house that night after the movie as I was taking care of him while he was sick, which was when I realized that perhaps I should go home and check myself over for concussion signs. Turned out that my pupils were uneven, which, in combination with the nausea and mood swings, made me think that perhaps something was wrong.
I made it through the night without going into a coma, which was good, and I completely got over the concussion symptoms by yesterday, except immediately afterword I came down with the same cold that Ty had while I was taking care of him. I know they say sharing is caring, but really.
So basically the moral of the story is, I’m spending my first Chanukah as a conversion candidate lying on my mom’s couch sniffling and cooking chicken soup and knitting hats like the bizarrely domestic kid I am. On the bright side, while in the grocery store buying chicken soup and Christmas cookie supplies with me today, my mom bought one of those little bags of chocolate Chanukah gelt and a loaf of challah for me. It was kind of adorable. On the less bright side, my teach-myself-to-make-latkes plan has failed because I can’t leave the couch without my sinuses sloshing around all disgustingly.
And I’ll leave you with that charming mental image. Happy Chanukah!