Well that was another waste of a fucking day in the ever-loving ER
So this morning, somewhere around 7 am, i noticed I was feeling a might poorly. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, I was sweating .50 caliber bullets, and I had heartburn type pains in my chest.
That added up to calling 911 to me.
So after a ridiculous series of fumbles and errors on my part, I managed to let the frigging EMTs in. They checked me out then we were off to RGH.
Cue the longest the trip from here to RGH has ever felt, just like my last trip in the Ambulance. When you combine the need to go slow so you don’t jostle the passenger with all the bumps (that actually DO jostle us quite a bit) these apparently suspension- less meat wagons are prone to, time really does stretch.
Got there and was ingested into the lengthy and complex digestive system of the medical machine. This included two and a half hours of just being parked in a wheelchair in the waiting room because…. SURPRISE! All the beds in the ER were full.
Ain’t I the lucky one.
So there I am with my chest pains and shortness of breath and sweat buckets as the morning drags on and on,
Eventually I am finally admitted and get my nice soft hospital bed. This will be my life raft for the next six to eight hours.
After that, it was the usual stuff. Drawing blood, X-rays, blood pressure and blood oxygen monitoring, visits with the doctor, and of course, ennui.
Oh, the ennui.
And of course, in the end, he just tells me he can’t find anything wrong with me. Ergo there is nothing wrong with me, right? They tried a bunch of tests and they all came back negative so clearly you’re a dirty stinking liar and/or delusional. Bye!
And I forgot to get mad and argue this time. Oh well, there’s always a next time.
Well, until something they missed kills me, at least.
Instead, I was my usual pleasant agreeable stupid self, Oh gosh gee golly, I get to go home now? Yay!
Wait…. why did I come here in the first place, then? Hmmm.
Oh right! It was because I had serious symptoms that they still have neither treated nor explained. Ones that came right back the minute I got out of bed.
I was tempted to just admit myself right back into Emegency. Or just not leave in the first place. Tell the nurse I ain’t leaving until someone tells me what the fuck is wrong with me and does something to fix it.
But I hadn’t the energy for that. So I just came home.
This shit is getting really old. I am tired of having serious symptoms apparently caused by absolutely nothing.
I guess I have no choice but to just wait and see if I still feel this bad tomorrow. If I do, I will go right back to Emergency and this time, I am going to get answers.
Oh well. At least I got to watch little black bunnies hop about while I waited for my cab.
Here’s hoping I survive the night!
More after the break.
This shit’s getting old too
- I develop an appetite. Maybe big, maybe small. But I can eat. Therefore…
- I get up to go get food.
- But then things happen. My joints pop with that sickening click of bone on bone. I accidentally jostle my to the touch testicles. I get an attack of dizziness. Or nausea wells up out of nowhere. Ergo….
- By the time I sit down to eat, my appetite is beyond dead once again
Even eating is hard for me now.
How sweet to be….
I imagine that a lot of people find this song bizarre, puzzling, or even offensive.
But I get it.
I too have wanted to be utterly harmless. Innes, the singer of the song, seems to have had the same intuition as I did : people are far less likely to be a threat to you if you pose no threat to them.
That’s what the aggressive types can’t ever understand. Sure, maybe that person won’t attack you because they are scared of you.
But then again, maybe they will attack you BECAUSE they are scared of you.
Better to be no threat to anyone at all. At least until you absolutely have to be.
I am warming up to the recognition of my own foolish nature.
It’s really quite liberating. I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. One I had no conscious notion was even there for a very long time.
But it seems I was trying to prove to the world that I was a smart person who made smarter, better choices that everyone else, and that is patently untrue.
Truth is, I’m a dumbass. I am a silly person who makes bad choices despite my extraordinary intellect and that is that.
I’m very very clever. I’m a trickster, a genius, a magician, and a clown. I can do amazing things with this magnificent mind of mine. It is a truly powerful tool.
But I am not smart. Smart is as smart does and I does dumb. I almost never make the decision i will wish I had made and it is virtually guaranteed that despite all my mental muscle, I will be so paralyzed by indecision when it comes time to choose that I end up up making the decision as impulsively and thoughtlessly as any other moron.
To overcome this limitation, I would have to develop a lot more “character”. One might might also call it toughness, grit, self-control, or even manliness.
It is that which allows one to remain in control and make good, smart decisions even when you are scared, angry, or otherwise in the throes of the kind of intense emotion that floods the mind with adrenaline and makes rational analysis impossible.
Developing more of that would mean I have to finally stop avoiding becoming a harder, tougher, stronger kind of man out of a desire to stay a child.
It would mean sacrificing a portion of my poofy soft nature in return for being more in control of myself and my life and less helpless to steer my own fate.
I am tired of being at the mercy of the waves and the tides.
Real sailors work with the wind but they bend it to their own ends.
They get where they want to go. They get want they want from the world. They see to themselves that their needs are met.
And if I was more like that, I would be a much happier man.
Think about it.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.