I mean it. It’s said that you never get more on your plate than you can handle. I might be working with a dessert plate, though, and I think the universe thinks I’m using a full-on Olive Garden-sized slab of stoneware!
So, Tuesday, I’m minding my own business, working on a deck (surprise, surprise!) and get a phone call from my doctor who I’d seen the day before for some blood work.
Dr. Rizzo: Hey, what are you doing?
Me: Working, why?
Dr. Rizzo: I was wondering if you’d like to spend some time in the emergency room today.
I wasn’t like this:
Apparently, my blood work indicated I have just a teeny bit of hemoglobin and an even smaller amount of hematocrit and iron in my blood. Who knows why? We’ll find out I guess. So, let’s continue, shall we?
So, here I go … the waiting room was chock full of the sick and disenfranchised and just plain angry people.
I only had to stay in the waiting room for about 30 minutes. Not bad. Then they put me in a room and told me to take it all off. They didn’t even put any dollars in my waistband. Neither did these people on the tour bus that was driving by the room right when I took my shirt off:
Embarrassing, but also, whatever — they have a story to tell their friends back home: “I was in Chicago and we saw The Bean, the John Hancock Tower, and a half-naked chunky black woman at Northwestern Hospital. It was fantastic.”
Then, I got to hang out in my room and…. do work! Yay! They have wi-fi at the hospital now.
That right there is someone else’s blood! Being pumped into my body! At a rate of about 1/180th of a drop per hour. I mean, it took forever. As a gallon donor in 2012 and a bone marrow donor in 2009, I didn’t feel guilty at all, though, taking a bit back from the bank. Whoever donated to my cause, thank you kind sir/madam!
So some more stuff happened, and there was another IV with iron in it and then they gave me a big plate of the worst food ever that I ate absolutely all of and I went to sleep to the dulcet tones of Storage Wars on the TV. (The TV which, by the way, was a 40″ flat screen with basic cable plus. It was kind of balla’.)
Woke up today with deck pressure still on my mind, but feeling a little better, and definitely able to catch my breath, which was a good thing, because this plate of breakfast almost made me lose it again:
I sent this picture to my mom and dad, who promptly texted back, “What’s that brown stuff next to the eggs?” Actually, they were potatoes, and looks aside, they were pretty good. You can thank me later, though, for not taking a picture of the oatmeal.
Blah, blah, blah, a group of 12-year old doctors on rounds come in and look at me — they were really cute, actually, and they showed me how to use SnapChat — then they’re all like, “Well, who knows? You can go home now.”
Erp. I went, instead, across the street to my GP to talk about what to do next. It’s all pretty nebulous, but the good news is, I get to have a colonoscopy AND an endoscopy! (Oh, also, by good news, I mean, yuck.) I left feeling like at least there’s a plan, went to a work meeting. (That was a stupid move, but it went well, and I needed to cross that off my list.) Then, I hopped up north to bust the pets out of the kennel, whereupon I find that Russell Jenkins has done something to his leg and we have to book it over to the veterinarian. (Seriously? How am I keeping it together at this point?) $400 later — and, I’m not complaining because Dr. Ben Quarrels might be the most beautiful man on the face of the planet. His eyelashes alone… — we find out that nothing’s broken, and RJ may have just sprained some soft tissue and would have probably been fine without an exam, but whatever. At that point, I was just a passenger on the trip the universe had planned.
Finally, on the way home, I get a call from Northwestern informing me that I’m booked for the colonoscopy and endoscopy on Friday. That means, I gotta start drinking gross stuff and staying close (and, here, they said that close means pretty much in/on) to the bathroom for the next two days. Exciting doesn’t begin to describe it.
I’m pretty sure that I’ll be winning the lottery on Saturday, just for shits and giggles!