Our Trip to the Hospital, Take 1

Last weekend we went to visit Jen and Shane in lovely Virginia Beach. Jen and Shane recently bought a new house, and I was so excited to see it. We arrived without trouble on Friday afternoon, despite my worries that 5 hours in the car might turn me into a homicidal maniac. We had a relaxed dinner and retired early to our comfortable quarters. Around 7:30 Saturday morning, I woke up and decided that I would just let everyone sleep in, make myself a cup of tea, and relax. As I approached the steps, I just completely forgot how to walk. I fell on the very top step and bounced my way down the 12 stairs on my right ass cheek. Within seconds, all three other sleeping people in the house were at my side, in various states of undress, to check on my condition. I was pretty much ok. Since I had fell on my cushion-y bottom, and there was no impact with my (quite ample) belly, mostly my ego and hind quarter was bruised but not much else. If I hadn't been 6 months pregnant, this whole scenario would have been hilarious! However, being pregnant plays tricks on your mind. About 3 hours later, I was convinced that the baby wasn't moving. I called my doctor and he recommended going to the local hospital for a quick check. Fortunately, we went to the most efficiently run hospital in the world, where I was admitted and strapped to monitors all within about 10 minutes of walking through the door! Unheard of in Philly. You could have a baby head sticking out of your crotch and they'd still park you in the waiting room in some local hospitals! Anyway, the on-call OB came around and checked me out, and everything was ok. I was advised to follow up with my OB in Philly, rest for a few days, and to avoid intercourse, exercise and water sports. What!? Why water sports? Whatever. So now I'm sitting at home, sore on the entire right side of my body, and bored. Dr. says at least it was good practice for when we have to go for real! I'm thinking about setting up an address for people to send me rabbit's feet and 4-leaf clovers and the like, because it seems like every fucking weekend some stupid shit happens to me. Maybe I should just lock myself in a padded room from sun-down on Friday to sun-up Monday morning.