A Follow Up

It all started with a text.....

Joe had asked me to do something for him via text.  I told him something or other and then I might have mentioned that I was on the kitchen floor.  I was having trouble finding the energy to get back down the stairs.  I had just made my 578th trip to the bathroom that day and I wanted to get back to "Endgame" on hulu.  (Yes, it appears I have an affinity for floors lately - so cool, so hard, so unwavering in the face of weariness)

This tends to freak Joe out.

I see it as a resting point.  A little hangout for those in need of a break.  I was going to get up and make it back down the stairs at some point.  No worries.

He made me call Tama.

I did.  I told her that it was day three of being drained of all life force and I was a bit weak and might have taken a little rest on the kitchen floor but Joe was being a worry wart.  I was sure I was going to be fine tomorrow.  And, remember, I had some Endgame to watch on hulu.  It is only 13 episodes long and due to my little episode with the stomach bug I was moving right through those babies.

She pretty much said dude, get yourself to the doctor, you IDIOT.  You might be dehydrated and you don't want to take chances with that.

Darn.

Well, now we are in a little bit of a quandary because my parents are out of town, Zia Maria is sick, we don't want to really expose too many people to this awful thing, ENDGAME IS WAITING FOR ME and we have three children.  So of course we call Steve, our neighbor.  This is completely logical to any of you who have met Steve or have heard of the Steve.  He is particularly well known for chasing children with brooms, popping up at our windows, wearing crazy costumes and his fantastically kept garden.  He is one of our children's favorite people.  He's about 60 but never really acts it :)  You might also see him riding his bike around Canton collecting aluminum cans.

I call.  He comes within 2 minutes and off we are to Aultcare.

All I can think is..........do NOT poop in this man's car, do NOT poop in this man's car, do NOT poop in this man's car...............I am a ball of nerves and Steve keeps chatting, oblivious to my INTENSE discomfort because I am trying SO HARD TO BE CALM and NOT poop in this man's pristine car.

I make it.  I run in to the building and hot foot it to the bathroom.

They check me in and I settle in for the wait.  Miraculously about ten minutes later I am called in.  The nurse checks me.  When she asks my weight, I proudly exclaim my number wanting to get it on record.  We go through all the rigamarole and she thinks I am probably dehydrated but will wait for the doctor.  I am laying down at this point because this is pretty much the most activity I have seen in the past 2 days or so and I was getting more and more nauseous as the time went on.  So I am laying down waiting.......this usually takes FOREVER but, no, about 10 minutes later the door opens.  I expect one of the usual older men I see (Let me interject at this point - I am now TERRIFIED that I am red-flagged  at this establishment due to how frequently I have come to them to see if I have strep throat, maybe 4 times in the past 5-6 months.  The whole strep throat leading to psoriasis thing has me PARANOID plus I had strep 2 or 3 times this winter and I just want to be on top of it.  But almost every time I come the doctor looks at me as if I am a FREAK for coming.  But it has been strep before and DUDE, I GET COVERED WITH RED BUMPS.  So I am always wondering if I am on some special hypochondriac list they have and picture them all giggling over my name around their nurse's desk.........anyway.......)  but no, this time I turn my head and there is a rather attractive doctor in his 40s.

This totally throws me.

When he asks what I am in for I stare at him for a little bit.

I am not quite sure how to form the word diarrhea in front of this man.

I decided that with my wrinkled, stained dress, hairy legs, white face and tangled hair saying the word diarrhea at this point was pretty much icing on this pretty little cupcake.

He checked me out, ordered a shot and told me to get myself to the er for an iv, I was dehydrated.  Dang.  Tama was right.  AS ALWAYS :)

That meant another, longer, tense ride in the pristine white car...........don't worry, we made it.  I know you were worried.  You thought maybe that was the whole point of this post.....me telling you I had some big accident in Steve's car.  Mercifully, THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.  PRAISE THE LORD.

Thankfully, I got admitted.  I got my iv.  I got some wonderful meds.  Everyone was nice.  It was great.  It will go down in history as the Memorial Day weekend that I got to be in the emergency room......

In a hospital gown...........

Answering personal questions about my last menstrual period, when was the last time I had diarrhea, when did I last vomit, could I be pregnant......................

With my sixty year old neighbor...........

Steve.

Good times, people, good times.

(Joe did come later and Steve got to go home but not until after all the personal questions were answered, my hospital gown was put on twice because of a bathroom emergency and all the shots were administered.)