Buddy Beaverhausen's Random Thoughts: Buddy B Gets His Head Examined!

Ironically, on 9/11 this year, I had my own personal emergency and ended up in Brooklyn's NYU Presbyterian Hospital. On the mild late-summer's morning, I decided to go to Brooklyn Market and do my week's grocery shopping. Out in Bay Ridge, it's our Trader Joe's, basically; our Whole Foods. Brooklyn Market has its own sauces and soups, fresh vegetables, fish and meat and much more.

So, there I was, among the Mafia wives and other discerning food shoppers, on my way to the registers with my hand basket, when I unexpectedly fell backwards. A wave of dizziness suddenly overcame me and I went down for the count, bashing my head on the hard tile floor.

It seemed as if I'd been cast in a Brian DePalma movie as I saw a pool of my own, very red blood spreading out from under my head. Customers were shocked, horrified, appalled. This was hardly the thing to put shoppers in the mood to have that store-made tomato sauce they'd just purchased.

As for me, I thought I was dying as the blood kept spreading around me. The store immediately called for an ambulance. The manager stayed with me until they arrived. All I wanted were some groceries. From now on, I'll stick to delivery and the downstairs deli. It's safer.

I couldn't get to my feet but the two paramedics who arrived carried me onto the stretcher, bandaged my head and wheeled me out. It was one of the few times in my life that I actually regretted being the center of attention. Still, I would have waved goodbye to my riveted audience as I exited through the sliding glass doors if my arms weren't strapped down. I was the morning's accidental drama queen. I should have sang "Don't Cry of Me, Grocery Shoppers" as I left.

The paramedics were two handsome guys, happy to say, especially the middle-aged one. They wheeled me into the hospital where the nurses took over. I was put in a private room. (What becomes a legend most?) All I could think at the time, however, was "I was at the Julie Budd show at the Metropolitan Room last night and now, look at me, bleeding to death in a hospital!"

Surgical staples were punched into the top of my head. Ouch! My vital signs were checked and I was shot up with various meds. Turned out my blood pressure had dropped much too low. The doctors, nurses and attendants were all pleasant despite the pressure of their jobs. Thankfully, my insurance is footing the bill 100%, or so I was told.

I was originally instructed I'd be in the hospital overnight. Around 5:00, the doctor said that, considering I had no concussion and my vital signs were back to normal, I could go home if I could demonstrate I could walk without help down the corridor, which I did. I werq'd it. It was my runway moment.

It was a good thing, as the windowless ward's a/c was not enough for my comfort, the bedding was too hard, the air was stale and I thought for sure I'd develop bed sores. This was my Princess and the Pea moment, of course.

Ultimately, I got home via livery car around 9pm. Oh, and that hot paramedic? He actually came up at the end of his work day around 6 to see how I was. I'm gonna wash that blood right outta my hair because I think I'm in love.