Work It Out: Week 2

2 down, 11 to go!

No big deal. I got this.

UGH. I am so tired.

At the end of week 1 I was dancing before each work out I had so much energy but this week…different story.

With P90X, each work out is at least an hour so J and I work out 6 days a week for at least an hour each day. And now I’m tired.

After week 2.

Can you tell I’m tired? Is the whining coming through enough? Do you need more?


My body is so sore, too. I don’t remember feeling this sore when we did P90X last time.


I haven’t told you about last time!

Sidebar: Sarah, the story needs to be told. If reading about it is going to upset you just look at the pictures and ignore the words until the bottom (there is a que for you).

August 4, 2009:

Jer-Bear and I start our first day of P90X. (We have photos but I’m not ready to share those with you yet, it’s not you, it’s me. Trust).

Things were going great, we were fitting in all of the workouts even in 90 degree heat, no AC and 1,000,000% humidity.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009:

Traveling with my Mac and work out equipment I head to Guilford, NY to stay with my big sister (and her babies) in preparation of a family friend’s bachelorette party and wedding. I can’t skimp on work outs b/c I’m out of town! I am a serious work out person now!

Thursday, August 20, 2009:

WARNING: The next image below may be a bit graphic for some readers! Please be warned! If you are a bit squeamish, squint your eyes and keep scrolling! (It really isn’t too bad unless you click on it and see it bigger, though).

I began my work out in time to be out the door around 9 AM. We had an entire day of bachelorette party debauchery planned so there was no time to mess around!

Until the unthinkable happened:

My sister tried to kill me.

JUST KIDDING!!! (I’m just trying to see if Sarah is actually reading this or not but the rest of the story is going to get graphic so be prepared!)

While working out with a resistance band attached to a carabiner and a door stop (over the top of a door to get resistance for a back workout), my sister, Sarah, was preparing everything we needed to get out the door as soon as I finished my shower.

You get really sweaty doing P90X.

Standing in between me and the door, Sarah discussed her list of things to do with her husband, Dan, who was sitting in the room behind me.

They finished their conversation.

She turned and opened the door.

I heard a deafening crack.

And I was on the floor.

Sarah turned to me, shocked and unsure of what happened, asked me if I was okay.

Before I could get to my feet and say, “I’m fine,” she screamed.

Blood curdling scream.

And I know this b/c I could feel the blood gushing out of my head.

And the pressure.

The insane pressure on the crown of my head.

Calmly, somehow, calmly I cupped my hands at my hairline and made my way to the kitchen sink.

“Don’t get blood on the carpet – blood stains, doesn’t it? Why is Sarah screaming? Head wounds always bleed a lot. Don’t they?”

A thin line of blood ran down my arm to my elbow.

“Shit. Don’t cry.”

I rested my elbows on the ledge of the sink and released my hands from my head.


“Grooooossss…hold it together, Em.”

Sarah couldn’t come near me.

I was asking for help and she couldn’t come near me.

She was crying too hard to help me.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened and why wasn’t Dan listening to her and rushing to help her little sister? Doesn’t he realize what’s going on?

Dan quietly came into the kitchen and looked at my head.

“Uh-oh. That is bad.”

Like we were kidding.

“Let me get you a towel.”

This is when I started crying.

Before this point I was reassuring Sarah that I was fine and everything was okay.

“Clearly, everything is NOT OKAY, EMILY!”

I was pressing the kitchen towel on my head and slow tears were dripping down my hot cheeks.

My head was numb.

My clothes were sweaty.

My hands were shaking.

“Em, you should sit down.”

I lifted my elbows from the counter and felt faint.

Dan grabbed my arms and led me to the nearest chair.

“You need to go to the ER…”

Then I waited.

Sarah calmed down.

Dan cracked jokes and made everyone loosen up.

He is the best at saying the right thing at the right time.

Sarah packed up my bags.

Dan gave me some bread, packed a few slices and filled a bottle of iced tea for the road.

Sarah checked that she had everything ready.

Dan checked my head again.

Dan’s mom checked my head.

Sarah double checked that we had everything we needed to go.

Dan got me a roll of gauze for the ride.

Sarah walked me to the car.

We drove 45 minutes to the nearest Urgent Care.

I do not do ERs.

We drove 45 minutes in mostly silence. As you can imagine, I had a decent headache.

We were able to get out a few giggles and make a few phone calls to inform the people who needed to know what was going on.

Mom – check.

Dad – check.

JB – check.

Sister, Cate – check.

Bride, Sara – check.

When we go to Urgent Care the lady behind the desk told us it would be a 45 minute wait.

“At least, hunny, so find yourself a seat.”

She was in a mood from something and Sarah and I were still in shock that we just obeyed until another lady behind the counter interjected.

“Sweetie? What is that on your head?”

I lifted my hand from my head (this is when I realized how tired my arm was).

I began to explain the roll of gauze that I kept rewrapping around my hand when her eyes bulged.

“Come right over to the door, sweetheart.”

She escorted me to a back exam room while Sarah was asked to fill out paper work for me.

After explaining what happened to the nurse – and then the doctor – I was prepped.

What felt like an entire bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide was dumped on my head adding to the sticky sweatiness that was already there…

…but, “Oh, man, that feels so nice…”

Then I remembered that I had just gotten a $300 Keratin treatment that was supposed to last 5 months only 1 month ago.

“I’ll kill her.”

Then I remembered I had gotten said treatment for free for offering up my head as a model for stylists learning how to do the treatment.


The doctor came in after some more oozy numbing gel was sitting on my head and with him came:


He told me I needed staples in my head about 10 minutes ago but I thought they would be plastic medical staples not REAL metal staples that are IDENTICAL to what comes out of my staple gun at home!

“It will only hurt a little bit. I promise. Ready for number one?”

This doctor has never gotten staples put into his head before or he has never kept a promise in his life and just throws them out there willy nilly.

“Ready for number two?”

He was so sweet. But no.

“When I stop talking, can you just do as many as you need to, just all at once and don’t tell me when it’s going to happen? Because they do hurt…quite a bit.”


Kachoo! Kachoo! Kachoo! Kachoo!

That is the sound of four more staples going into my head.

But it’s over.

I can breathe.

I guess it wasn’t so bad.

I guess it could have been like –

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I need to do just one more -”

“Do it.”


The time was around 11 AM.


Luckily, we were now in the same town as the rest of the bridal party so we went to the nail salon – nothing was going to stop me from a little mani-pedi love now, are you kidding?

After nearly passing out due to the fumes of the salon and, you know, the blood loss, Sarah and I headed to my Dad’s house in Niskayuna (opting to skip the SUV filled with bridesmaids b/c head injury + giddy bridesmaids = bad idea).

After having my Dad, step-mom Jackie, and sister Cate fawn over Sarah and I (yes, it was traumatic for both of us and I mean that seriously) I was finally able to shower and managed to get a decent comb over going to hide my goo covered metal head before the rest of the troops arrived.

My sisters joked that this was their chance to pick on me for having metal in my head b/c I never had braces and they both did. (However, to this day I would rather have the metal in my head for a week than in my mouth for two years and I will stand by that statement until the day I die).

Wanna see how normal I looked?

Sarah is in the green shirt and I am behind her to her left. Amazing what a shower, a flat iron and a smile can do, right?

I was the designated photographer of the night (no drinking b/c I was running on half my normal blood supply) and I even managed to dance once we hit the club with AC – on gay night, no less.

Apparently, I am the only one who knows how to use my camera…or the operator was drunk…which is more likely. I kinda dig the photo, anyway. It reminds me of how much Sarah and I went through together on that day, how chaotic and blurry it all was. I think we’re better for it. I know we’re better for it.


So, I learned a few things from this episode.

  1. Lock the door when using it with work out equipment.
  2. Your head is harder than a metal carabiner.
  3. A flat iron can fix just about any hair tragedy.
  4. Maybe it’s okay to skip a day or two of work outs when you’re away from home.
  5. Head wounds DO bleed a lot more than other places on your body would.
  6. Hair grows back if the doctor uses the staples right.
  7. Love your in-laws b/c you never know when they’ll really pull through for you. (Did you think I only call him “Dan the Man” b/c it rhymes? Now you know).

Also, I now have a heavy fear of resistant bands. So how am I doing P90X?

I’m working through it.

But back then, I worked through it by crying my eyes out when it was time to use the resistance bands to work out (oh yeah, this was a post about working out!) and then stopping the video.

I think I made it through 7 weeks total last time and JB made it maybe a few weeks longer.

We both gained back the weight and are starting over.

I’m getting better with the resistance bands. I now sit differently when I use them so they will never hit me in the head again and I don’t use them over doors but rather rigged up in Jerry’s chin up bars (I know, sounds much safer, right?).

I really didn’t pay as much attention to what I was eating as I wanted to and will be trying that once again this week.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, my hair went from this:

To this:

Yeah, I really didn’t think it would grow back. I didn’t think the pains would stop either but they have for the most part (you know, as long as I don’t bump my scar into the door jam while screwing in new hinges).

PP Did you have any serious hiccups happen during a work out program that stalled you? How and when did you get back on track? Or did you? I’m still looking for good for you recipes if you’ve got any more!

About Miss Em

I'm Emily, he's Jerry. Newly wed but long together, homeowners since 2006, one child in cat form.
This entry was posted in Accidents Happen, Leaving Town, Work It Out. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Work It Out: Week 2

  1. Sarah says:

    So I read the whole thing. I can handle it now. But OMG! What a day that was. I love you!

  2. Miss Em says:

    I love you too, big sister! MUAH!


  3. Kim says:

    At least I have all the details now. Sarahs doesnt tell a storey quite the way you do!

  4. Miss Em says:

    Thank you for noticing! Don’t blame her, though, she wasn’t blessed with my talent of elaboration. It comes from our Father. :)


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