A Little Morphine In All the Air…
It would be wonderfully refreshing to everyone.
It’s not often that you come to this blog and I’m talking about morphine. In fact, it’s never.
But this is the kind of post you get when you put a writer in a hospital room overnight and leave them alone to their own devices.
I’ve been in a strange kind of pain for the past week. It started pretty innocently when I tried to stand up at work and couldn’t. I was doubled over in pain, but figured it would go away in a few minutes. Well, a few minutes turned into a full week and yesterday morning, while trying to shower, I started crying and knew it was time to admit I needed someone else’s opinion. WebMD was great but with my (very) limited (non existent) medical degree, it wasn’t doing much for me except suggesting I see a doctor right away.
So I did. I called my (hot) doctor at 7:30 yesterday am and by 8:45 was sitting in his office. From his office he sent me to a really nice, concerned looking neurologist who checked out my symptoms and said: To the ER, now.
I haven’t been back at St. John’s since my hysterectomy in 2009, but very little has changed. The nurses are all awesome. The candy stripers are really sweet and the orderlies are pretty good wheelchair drivers. Since I haven’t eaten since Monday morning, I couldn’t tell you how the food is, but I, sure it’s good for hospital crap. I mean food.
So what’s wrong with me? We don’t know. I say ‘we’ and mean it, we just don’t know. Possible appendicitis. Or maybe it’s avian flu. Either way, when they ask you to show them how much it hurts, I point at the really sad face grimacing on the wall behind me.
They’ve given me toradol, but I assume that since I don’t play pro football, it doesn’t work as well. Last night I got a morphine drip. I slept for two hours, which was awesome. I had a dream The Rock made me pancakes. Then I woke up and was in just as much pain as before, and on a ‘no food or drink’ order from my doc. So, no Rock. Oh, well. His loss. Who am I kidding?
My doctor and surgeon should be here soon. I intend to continue smiling until they tell me to stop. I’ve only ever learned to be nice, even when I’m hurting inside. That’s a story for another blog.
Today, we’ll take a virtual tour of my hospital room and maybe meet a few new people.
But if you see The Rock and he’s wearing an apron. Tell him I’m in room 609s.