I was at work yesterday because I needed to tidy up my desk and files for this HUGE audit going on this week. WHY anyone would schedule a huge audit the week before a three week holiday is beyond me. But why anyone where I work decides to do anything is also beyond me.
So I am quietly working away, with one of my fists jammed into my left eye. (It hurts enough to jam my fist in there, but not enough for me to start crying :Mother of God!@ Kill me now!”) My cop walks by and does that double take skid and asks me if I feel okay. Yeah, I feel fine. Well, I’m just asking because you have YOUR FIST JAMMED IN YOUR EYESOCKET. Well, now that you mention it, I really don;t feel so good.
So I decide to call my boss…who is out of the office. So I call HIS boss…who is out of the office, too. So then I’m going to call their boss, Mrs. S-B. That is when my Sargent and captain come strolling in. Maybe I’d like the MTA’s come check on me? Sure. Sounds fine. Evidently my blood pressure was so high that in SECONDS here comes the ambulance.
So I’m at the facility hospital and the sarge has called my husband to come get me.
Mrs. S-B opines that I CAN WALK TO THE BUS STOP and wait for him, since he hasn’t been cleared to come onto grounds.
My LT goes that military ballistic on her: no, I am not trotting off anywhere and he has ISU waiting to escort my husband to get me. The medical officer decides that I need to go to a REAL (as opposed to an inmate hospital, which isn’t set up for civilians). So just minutes later, here comes a real ambulance. By this point, I’m not too sure who I am or when I was born or any of the other pointed questions they ask you in the ambulance. I DO know what is wrong with me (short term memory is intact).
My boss is with me and honestly, I think he is going to pass out when I get this HUGE needle put in (in route), because there’s no telling what the heck I’m going to need once I get to the ER. I do get one of those big saline bags (I think that’s SOP) and some oxygen (why can’t they find an ATTRACTIVE oxygen do-hookie?) I do tell him about 100 times that I dropped off my lesson plans in his office and MY scribbled up copies are on my desk.)
So finally, I’m at the hospital and whisked off to room 4 (that is the one where the nurses station can see you all the time. After that, I don;t remember a whole lot, except that my husband is there and my boss looks both worried, horrified and relieved.
I get a bunch of scary tests done and am just freezing before I start getting some serious drugs. The nurses are incredibly nice and evidently, the drug barrel is right outside my room. The doctor actually listens to me when I recite the list of drugs that make me puke (“oh, really, well usually XYZ DOESN’T make you puke.” “Okay, but get me one of those really big trash cans.” Okay,,,,why don’t we give you what you KNOW works for you?”) The biggest trouble I had was that it all burned like lit kerosene….but compared to the jackhammer in my head, that was a minor little problem.)
So when I went home, I though maybe I would go to work today. WRONG. I couldn’t pass what we laughingly call the field sobriety test…can I walk down the hall without bouncing off the walls? Can I dress myself and manage to put my sweater on right side out? How about front side front?
Since I can’t, I have to stay home. Where I sleep pretty much all day.
I am planning on going in for a half day tomorrow. Then I see my regular doctor and see how much closer I am to getting my head drilled.
THe high point is that I recognized all my dogs AND my family members. I did miss Judge Judy, though. The low point is that I attempted to email Marji and I think I forgot how to speak English. Or any other language. I think she got the jist of it. If she didn’t, I’l hear about it, That kind of stuff makes her crazy and she doesn’t realize I’m not doing it to MAKE her crazy,
Mike made me stop typing, sine I sent him an email and all he manage to deciper was his name.