Got a headache last night...poor pathetic me. Marji got one, too. All she had was aspirin. I had a whole crazy hot mess of things, which I threw up. Even puke stop. Couldn't keep 7-Up down. We were watching ER (one of the many seasons we have) and I was looking at the mayhem that goes on and was thinking, nope, I hurt more than that. Hurt more than that. Sure hurt more than THAT.
So I'm up in the middle of the night, trying to decide if I need to go to the ER or if I can just take what I have and keep it down. I HATE going to the hospital in the middle of the night. You never know how long you are going to have to wait or if you are going to get some jerk of a doctor who thinks some tylenol is going to work. Hey! My head is going to blow UP. If tylenol worked, I would be at Rite Aide.
Marji can't get drugs and I think I know why. She has that competent, educated librarian face that looks like she has it all under control. Her husband has that competent,unruffled engineer face that looks like he has it all under control. They look like thoughtful, reasonable people.
I, on the other hand, look like a dandelion on crack with huge black circles under my eyes. I am crying and Darling looks like a bad Johnny Cash who has been up for 100 years. Huge bags under his eyes and he paces like a caged bear. WE look like a couple who not only does not have it together; we are rapidly spiraling out of what little control we have. And my blood pressure is something like 250/190 (which usually makes the nurse dash out of the room with a stricken look on her face) and then it is big ass needles and vats of drugs.
The first time that happened it REALLY scared me. I mean, medical personnel are supposed to be able to calmly handle everything, no matter how icky. So when your nurse says something like,"Hmmmm" you can think, well, maybe this is a tad odd. However, when she says, "Jesus, Mary and Baby Jesus!" and whirls out of the room, it makes you think....well, by that time, you aren't doing a lot of thinking besides "YIKES!"
Once upon a time, I was in a huge pile up in the fog and I ended up under an 18-wheeler with the top of my car peeled off. Upon impact, I crawled into the foot well of the passenger seat, since i knew for a fact that I was going to get smacked more than once, since this truck was across the road and there was another car jammed underneath it on the other side. It took six hours to cut me out, mainly because the kid in the other side was in a really bad way. I was just cold and scared.
During that whole thing, the EMTs and the firefighters and the cops were calm, calm calm. Someone was with me the whole time. Somebody gave me a phone so I could call work and my folks and my kids, but I wasn't alone. And I never got that sense of urgency that i was in trouble. (And besides having to get my car cut apart to get me out, I WASN'T). It was almost surreal, it was so calm.
And if I can manage to hang on and go in to my regular clinic, it is pretty calm, too, since they know me.
It's going to the ER that I hate. Especially over here. I know where it is but Darling doesn't. Well, he knows where it is in the daytime but not at night. So I am just at that little balance point where I'm looking at the clock and wondering if I can hang on until around 6:30 or if I am going to have a stoke right now.
Because this 250/190 shite is nothing to fool around with, Which is why I have drugs and Marji has a headache and Tylenol.