I have an enemy now. A twitt named Stitt.

OK. so today I decided that after my IV Antibiotics session at Ambulatory Services, I would amble on over to Emergency to see about all this brutal back pain I have been experiencing since I fell last Wednesday.

And I lucked out because there was practically nobody there when I went. I spent practically no time waiting in the waiting room for triage and even less time waiting for the nurse to call me in after triage, so that was nice.

Plus I ended up learning a cute bit of trivia about the ER nurses : when I said “Wow, sure is quiet today!”, three nurses all said “Oh no! You said the Q word!”.

Apparently, saying “quiet” in the ER is like saying “Macbeth” in a theatre : very bad luck.

And sure enough, after me at least five patients showed up one by one, so they might just be on to something there.

So then I was admitted and changed into my little dignity-proof gown and painfully laid down on my designated bed.

Thus began a long afternoon of not peeing.

See, they wanted a urine sample. And my bladder flat out refused to cooperate. I spend most of the afternoon trying to will myself to pee.

Turns out I should have gone with my first instinct and just sat up, painful as that was. The real enemy was gravity. I just can’t pee lying down.

I wish I had known that from the beginning. Would have saved me a lot of time sitting with a cardboard pitcher clapped over my dick trying to make the waters flow.

Oh, but it gets much worse.

Once I sit up, I am able to make a respectable contribution. Problem solved, or so I thought. My nurse got her sample for testing.

But no. Then she breaks out an oddly primitive ultrasound machine that made these noises like a Geiger counter in bad need of a cleaning as she scanned my bladder.

Oh no, apparently I still have too much fluid in my bladder. “He” is not going to like that.

I assume that means Stitt the Shitt.

Thus begins Phase 2 of Operation Missing Gold, and this time no matter if I sit, stand, or turn cartwheels, nothing is coming out.

Lovely. Now what?

Turns out, it’s…. the catheter

Meh. Not welcome news but I have been there once before so I know that while quite weird and a tad undignified, it doesn’t hurt and so it’s not that bad.

Or so I thought.

Turns out that by some bizarre twist of fate, I am now catheter-proof. I had multiple nurses try many, many times to get a line through, and getting nothing but my screams of agony in return.

Finally, out of desperation, they asked me to try peeing again.

And I took to it with a will.

This time, I was successful. Honestly, I think the poking around with the catheter might have helped loosen up things.

Of course, the brutal irony in all of this is that when I am at home, I pee like eight times a day. It’s actually quite annoying.

But whether it was nerves, the chaotic environment, or my having offended the gods, my usually voluble bladder was practically a mime today.

Anyhow, once all that was done, and Doctor Fitt for the Pitt Stitt comes along and tried to give me the whole “Well we don’t know what’s wrong with you, so go home!” shit that I have gotten in that ER so many goddamned times.

Hell, before that, I had to remind him what my initial complaint had been. I swear he had forgotten completely like the paragon of competence he is,

But this time I fought back, god damn it, and I feel good about that. I took him to task about the fact that I still was in a lot of pain.

And he’s all, “Well most people as they age experience some form of back pain. ”

And I’m like, “NOT LIKE THIS. ” Ass.

And I asked about why I was in so much pain, he said “Well obviously because iof that fall you took.

And I wish I had said, “But you don’t know, do you? You’re just guessing. And the sad truth is that you don’t WANT to know. You don’t care any more. You have decided you are done with me because my case has become boring and hard and you have mentally checked out and quite frankly don’t give a shit what happens to me now and are actually visibly annoyed that I am even still talking to you. ”

I might complain to the Ministry about him. Or the RCPS.

But I am pretty pissed off right now so I am going to wait until I have calmed down and had time to think things over rationally before I get him in trouble.

Any way you slice it, I spent all day at the ER and got absolutely nothing for it. I am in just as much pain as I was when I walked in there.

I suppose they eliminated a lot of possible answers, but I was kind of hoping they could actually, ya know, heal me.

Or at least remember that’s what they are supposed to be doing.

Wish I had just come home after antibiotics. I could have spent this afternoon playing DOS2 and blogging and napping, like usual.

Instead it was a lot of weirdness and pain and boredom for nothing.

Fuck everything everywhere always. Shit just keeps getting worse.

And all I can do is endure it and try to survive it. I am too fucked up in the head to do any of the myriad of things I “could” do to save myself.

So all I can do is sit and wait for the next horrible thing to happen.

I am doomed, doomed, doomed, and it is no fun at all.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.