~ November 23, 2003 - 1:06 p.m. ~
Weak Weeks
So these past two weeks has sucked. Royally. Here�s the score, so far:NYU EMERGENCY ROOM: 2 GINA: 0
NYU HEALTH CENTER: 2 GINA: 0
Last Saturday night I got back from Florida, very late. Had a huge zit on the right side of my head, but then my complexion has always been troublesome, so what the hell? I go to bed.
Last Sunday morning I wake up with extremely blurry vision and a huge head ache. My right eye won�t open. I check things out in the mirror, only to discover that the right side of my face has swollen up and is all puffy and gross. I scream. Tim falls down the loft stairs. We run screaming to the emergency room.
Two hours later, I emerge with two prescriptions; one for the pain, one to make the bacteria-originated swelling go down. Turns out the giant zit became infected, and instead of just coming to a head, oozed into my skin and freaked out, causing the swelling. How terribly exciting! A zit tried to eat my face! (Actually, they could never really prove that it was a zit at all. One doctor said �zit� the other said �bug bite� so who the fuck knows.)
Over the next couple of days, I lay low in the hopes that the swelling and giant red dot on my face go away. By Wednesday, they are pretty much gone. I venture a jaunt out to pAndi�s for lunch, and to do Tim�s laundry. We�re sitting around, chatting with her roommate Lorga, shooting the shit, being silly. All of a sudden, I get up, take two steps, and fall to my knees, groaning in pain. My left hip had totally freaked out, and was spasming.
Lorga and pAndi helped me up, but I couldn�t move, so they lay me down on pAndi�s bed. The also called my mom, who told them to make me a hot rice sock to use as a heating pad. Trouble was, there was no microwave to heat the sock in, so pAndi had to call Princess Lisel, her friend who lives on the fourth floor. Unfortunately, she wasn�t home, so pAndi went to her neighbor�s for the microwave. While she was gone, Princess Lisel arrived, saw the condition I was in, and asked if she could get me anything. I begged for toilet paper, because I really had to pee, and there was none in the apartment. She laughed and left. While she was gone, the ice pack leaked onto my crotch, making it look like I wet myself. Niiiice. pAndi came back and saw this, laughed her ass off, and when Princess Lisel arrived, told her I had wet my pants.
Which Princess Lisel believed. Until Lorga and I screamed that pAndi was a liar. But still.
Anyway, I renamed Princess Lisel to Saint Princess Lisel for her heroic acquisition of TP.
Tim called, on his way to fencing, and offered to come to the Urgent Care clinic with me, but I told him not to. pAndi and I then got into a cab and headed over to Urgent Care, only to learn that they were closed, and I had to go to the Emergency Room. Again.
We snagged another cab over there, and they fixed me up with a wheel chair, so pAndi and I were comfortable watching College Jeopardy on the ER TVs. We spent the next three hours drawing exquisite corpses and quietly making fun of other patients. Like the woman who came in a wheel chair, wearing and extremely bad wig, who could not clearly state her name, and needed to look at a little card before she could state her birthday. She also seemed to be a little fuzzy on what her symptoms were, and the woman she was with was none to coherent herself. And yet, neither appeared to be drunk or high. Innnteresting . . .
Also, whenever the doors opened from chairs to the ER area, we saw various patients wandering around, which struck us as odd. Like Extreme Rectal Bleeding Man, a white-haired old gent who wore a hat part of the time, had black knee socks and shiny black shoes, and clutched his gown closed, despite the fact that there was blood where his ass was. And when I wheeled myself into the bathroom, guess what was all over the floor? Yup, rectal blood. And the helpful ER maintenance guy wouldn�t clean it up before I used the bathroom. Thank god there was none on the toilet seat, but I wasn�t taking any chances. Of course, after I left the bathroom, then they cleaned it up. Yeah, great.
So finally I get admitted, and so I�m wheeled into a little curtained-off area of beds, and the curtain concealing my bed from the rest of the room is shared by Cranky Pneumonia Lady, who starts whining when they close the curtain so I can change into a crappy hospital gown. They assure her it is just temporary, but when I was done changing, I couldn�t get out of the bed to open the curtain, so it had to stay closed for THREE WHOLE MINUTES before a nurse came by to open it. At which point CPL complained heartily that they had blocked her from the light for so long. Um, hello? What about those annoying fluorescents bearing down on you?
Anyway, although I could see neither of my neighbors, I soon discovered that to my right is a woman I like to call Partial-Amnesia Stroke Victim. Interestingly enough, both my neighbors were old women, I would say in their 70s or 80s even, and once they let pAndi back to keep me company, we had a ball listening in on their conversations with their doctors. We are probably going to hell for deriving such amusement from the suffering of others, but just listen to the following conversation with Partial-Amnesia Stroke Victim.
Doctor (to Nurse): I think we should wake her and try again.
Nurse: Ooookaaay. (She wakes PASV.) Um, ma�am? Mrs. Collins*?
PASV (Despite the fact that she has been asleep for hours): I was just dozing off!
Nurse: Um, right. Do you know where you are?
PASV: Who are you? Are you a doctor? (Apparently looking out past the curtain.) There�s an awful lot of doctors running around there! Is something going on?
Nurse: Well, you�re in a hospital, and we�re very busy with patients this evening.
PASV: I don�t get it.
Nurse (to Doctor): Told you.
Doctor: Well, Mrs. Collins-
PASV: I was just dozing off!
Doctor: Ooookaay, we�ll let you sleep then.
PASV: *Snores*
A little while later, they tried again.
Doctor: Hello, Mrs. Collins!
PASV: Oh hello! Am I in a hospital?
Doctor: Yes, do you know why?
PASV: No, I feel fine.
Nurse: Oh, Mrs. Collins, don�t pull out your IV!
PASV: Is that what that thing was? Well, I don�t need it, I feel fine.
Doctor: Mrs. Collins, do you remember where you were earlier today?
PASV: Um, I was at that . . . doctor . . . no . . . d- . . .d-
Doctor: Dentist?
PASV: Yes, that�s it. Dentist.
Doctor: Riiight. Do you remember what happened at the dentist�s?
PASV: I was having a cleaning. No, wait, I was doing impressions.
Nurse: Ok, Mrs. Collins, I�m putting your IV in again. Don�t pull it out this time.
Doctor: Impressions?
PASV: Yeah, they were taking molds of my teeth.
Nurse: Mrs. Collins! I told you not to pull that out! (to Doctor.) God, we�re gonna have to double-tape it or something.
Doctor (stifles a giggle): OK, they were taking impressions of your teeth. Then what happened?
PASV: I was getting all woozy, and I couldn�t talk for a bit.
Nurse: Mrs. Collins, I want you to look me in the eye.
PASV: Yeah?
Nurse: Mrs. Collins, this is your IV. You need to keep it in, it�s giving you medicine.
PASV: Is it? It�s kind of itchy.
Nurse: Well, be that as it may, it�s very important that you leave it alone and don�t pull it out, ok?
PASV: Sure.
Nurse: I�m serious, Mrs. Collins. I�m going to cry if you pull it out again, understand?
PASV: Sure.
Nurse: So don�t pull it out!
Doctor: Mrs. Collins, you were saying that you got woozy?
PASV: Yeah, but I feel fine now.
Doctor: Well, I don�t want to alarm you, but you�re not entirely fine. We think you may have had a stroke.
PASV: Oh? Well, they gave me some carrot cake at the dentists, and I felt fine after.
Doctor: Yes, but do you remember what happened after you ate the carrot cake?
PASV: Yeah, I told you; I felt fine!
Doctor: Well, actually, you had a bit of a relapse half an hour later and they called an ambulance to take you to the emergency room.
PASV: Oh, is that where I am?
Doctor: Yes, you�re at the NYU Medical Center�s Emergency Room.
Nurse: MRS. COLLINS! Why did you just pull out your IV?
PASV: Huh?
Nurse: That thing there that you just pulled out of your hand!
PASV: Oh, it was itching.
Nurse (to Doctor): We�re gonna have to super glue that damn thing on.
Doctor: Mrs. Collins, has anything like this happened to you before?
PASV: No.
Doctor: Really?
PASV: Oh, yes! Last year around Thanksgiving. I was at my nephew�s house, and I got like this, and they took me to the hospital, because they thought it might be a stroke.
Doctor: Well, that wouldn�t explain why carrot cake brought you around. You�re blood sugar was very low earlier today?
PASV: Was it?
Doctor: Um, yes. Yes it was.
Nurse: OK, Mrs. Collins, I am begging you not to touch that IV again! Please! Ok?
PASV: Um, sure.
Nurse: Do you think you could take this pill now?
PASV: Why should I want to take a pill? I feel fine!
Doctor: Well, we think that you�re inability to talk before was linked to a shortage of blood in your brain, and this pill contains aspirin, which will stimulate the flow of blood.
PASV: But I said I feel fine!
. . . . and so on. Meanwhile, on the left side of my curtain, Cranky Pneumonia Lady was driving her male nurse and female doctor (she had commented briefly on this anomaly earlier) absolutely crazy. Please imagine everything Cranky Pneumonia Lady says in a nasal whine.
CPL: Nurse! Nurse! I�m cold! I want another blanket!
Nurse: OK, just a minute.
CPL: But I�m freezing now !
Nurse: OK, OK, here you go.
CPL: Why don�t I feel any better?
Nurse: Um, I�ll get the doctor.
(A few minutes later.)
Doctor: OK, Mrs. Goldberg* what seems to be the trouble?
CPL: What�s wrong with me doctor? You ran all those tests and you didn�t even tell me what I have!
Doctor: Well, Mrs. Goldberg, I was waiting for your lab results to return.
CPL: Are they back yet?
Doctor: Well, yes, they just came back two minutes ago.
CPL: Then why didn�t you come and tell me.
Doctor (Pauses to clear her throat): OK Mrs. Goldberg, it appears you have pneumonia.
CPL: But I just had pneumonia two months ago.
Doctor: Yes, it is puzzling.
CPL: I want my regular doctor.
Doctor: I�m sorry, we�ve tried to page him � believe me we tried � but he�s not going to be available till morning. We�re going to admit you and take you upstairs. I�m afraid you�re going to have to stay overnight for treatment.
CPL: If I�m going to have to stay here I want my regular doctor!
Doctor: Yes, and you will see him. In the morning. In the meantime, while we�re waiting for a bed to open up upstairs, we�re going to start your medication, ok?
CPL: Fine.
Soon they came back to hook her up to an IV and some other machine.
CPL: Don�t shut the curtain! Don�t close me off!
Doctor: I�m sorry, ma�am. It�s for your privacy. It�ll only take a minute.
CPL: I don�t care about privacy, I want the curtain open. What kind of drugs are you giving me?
Doctor: We�re giving you (weird drug name) intravenously.
CPL: No! No, you can�t give me that, I�m allergic to it, I get diarrhea!
Doctor: Ma�am all your many allergies are well documented on your chart, and this medication is not among them. In fact, it says here that you were treated successfully with it last month.
CPL: Yeah, but it gave me horrible diarrhea! Aren�t you listening to me? Are you trying to kill me?
Doctor: Not at all ma�am. We�re trying to treat you. I�m going to have to ask you to calm down.
CPL: Well, I�m scared! (Indicating to the nurse) This one�s trying to give me medicine that I�m allergic to, and you-
Doctor: Ma�am, you�re not allergic to (weird drug name).
CPL: Then why do I get such terrible diarrhea when I take it? I couldn�t hold in any food for a week, and I was so weak.
Doctor: Diarrhea is a side-effect of this drug. That doesn�t mean you�re allergic to it.
CPL: I won�t take it. (To Nurse.) Don�t you hook me up to that!
Nurse: What should I do?
Doctor: Look, Mrs. Goldberg, we are trying to treat you as best we can. For a women your age, pneumonia can be fatal. We are trying to give you the best and most effective medication we can. Unfortunately, you are allergic to all other medications that will treat your pneumonia, so, despite your potential to get diarrhea, we have to give it to you, or not treat you at all. If you like, I can have the Nurse give it to you in pill form.
CPL: No, no! The last time they did that, my esophagus was so sore I couldn�t swallow for a week.
. . . And so on. Finally, I was released, and they had to shut the curtain so I could dress. Needless to say, she whined.
CPL: I thought I told you people not to shut my curtain.
Nurse: Mrs. Goldberg, the patient next to you has to change. She�s being released.
CPL: But I don�t like being closed off. Can�t you leave it open a little on my side.
Gina: Ma�am, I�ll only be another minute!!
pAndi: (Giggles).
Nurse: Please ma�am, just be a little patient. If we leave the curtain open, even a bit, your neighbor has no privacy.
Whine, whine, whine! pAndi and I were dying. One of the doctors noticed us covering our mouths to keep from laughing out loud at her, and he gave us a look like he didn�t know whether to shake his head or laugh with us.
I spent the weekend in a drugged stupor, and then on Tuesday I got to see a doctor for a follow-up, and he sent me to physical therapy. Which also resulted in more pain, and now I�m drugged again. But hopefully, the therapy will pay off in the long run.
In other news, my performance of Canto V of Dante�s Inferno was Tuesday as well, and then on Wednesday, I had my first job interview! It was for an advertising company, and I guess it went well because they want to see me again after Thanksgiving! Wish me luck, everyone!
Tim also had a fencing tournament today, but he fucked up his knee two bouts into it and had to call it quits. He�s consoling himself by playing Soul Caliber now. Poor baby.
And on that joyous note, I need brownies. Have a good day all.
PS. I just realized I never told you what was wrong with me. Well, they think it is some nerve and possibly tendon damage in my hip, resulting from my fractured pelvis a few years ago. As I've said before, it's the fucking injury that keeps on giving. Feck. If I could sue the stupid theatre teacher who didn't take me to the emergency room when the damn thing happened, I would. I fucking hate that bitch.
*Names have been changed to protect the annoyingly humorous.
