I slipped in the tub on Saturday morning. I was in Seattle attending a 2-day medical meeting, and spent Friday night at a hotel. As I stepped into the tub for a shower, the bath mat slid out from underfoot, and I slid headfirst into the wall. I have a multicolored bruise at my forehead, that has leaked into the left eyelid. I’ve made two artsy photos of the stigmata so far. And wrote this poem. 
A Slip
I was reminded sharply
of danger, of throbbing, of sudden
death. Here is a lavender bruise,
here, a tender egg-bump on my fore-
head. At sixteen, I ran smack
into a concrete wall, chased
down the hall by my brother.
Just kids then. I have worn the years
of depression from that skull dent
with aplomb. Today, it’s nausea
and vertigo. A concussion? Today
I have curtly become an old lady. One
who slips. One who slips in the shower.
Oh dear, Risa. That’s horrible. Head hits are never good, especially when we get older. There’s every chance you’ve got a concussion. Don’t overexert yourself, and if symptoms persist, see a doctor. I like the poem, though!
Ouch, take care there. Hotels can be dangerous; lobbies, pools, fountains, beds, balconies, elevators, hallways, staircases, housekeepers, managers, cooks… Thanks for the poem, it lifts me up somehow.
That’s an awfully good poem, Risa, but it could still be a concussion!
Ah, how the body betrays us in our older age. Although, this is more an accident anyone could have. Poem is perfect.