Fifty bucks for a popsicle

You know that stuff that crawled through my ooze? It took up residence and landed me in the hospital. Monday night I started throwing up blood and thought it might be a good idea to go visit the people in the ER who, since my daughter hadn't been in all week, were surely wondering where we all were. I spent the next four days in the hospital. They did every kind of test it's possible to do on a person when you don't do them all. I had two CTs, an ultrasound, four sets of x-rays, an endoscopy and biopsy of the inside of my stomach. In the meantime, I was even sicker than the aforementioned dog.

Sometimes my temp was fine, other times it spiked. Some times I could eat, others I couldn't. I was hooked to an IV the entire time I was there and a word on the idea of trying to use the bathroom while tethered to an IV: runhidesaveyourself. And they wanted me to aim my pee and poop in these little measuring cup things they leave in the toilet.

Please goddess don't ever let my job be measuring someone else's pee.

It embarassed me to go to the bathroom in measuring cups so I didn't do it and that set off a flurry of consultation about why I hadn't been peeing or pooping. So then I started peeing in the cups but it took me a while to poop in one and I never warmed up to the idea.

They took four or five tubes of blood a day (making me wonder what the hell they thought I had). My IV line had to be moved five times for various reasons. Demerol is always a good idea so I look and feel like a big, bruised pincushion. It hurts to lift my arms because of the intramuscular Demerol shots, I have big red splots where my skin reacted to the paper tape and I have tape stickum all over my hands and arms.

And if you're looking for proof of the existence of Satan, look no further than the orders of a doctor regarding your diet. A lot of the time I was there I was NPO which means 'will kill for cup of water'. My throat was killing me from the tube snaking down into it and I was fevered and pitiful and sick and all I wanted was some GODDAMNED ICE, but no. Nothing by mouth. At one point, an orderly came by and told me he could get me a popsicle for fifty bucks.

But I may have been dreaming or woozy from sedatives.

At first they were leaning toward gallstones. Then they kind of leaned a little bit toward pancreitis. Then they got confused and listed toward severe migraines. It took a lot of pendulum action (no fun when you're woozy and nauseus) before they decided that what I have is inflamation of the stomach lining.

Inflamed stomach lining. Like, needs Pepto Bismol (which turns your stool black). Like, get used to Prevacid (pretty little pills). Like, you'll have an ulcer if you don't take better care of yourself.

But Doctor Man, says I, how do I take better care of myself? Tell me, and I shall eagerly do it!

Reduce stress, he says.

I swear to GOD he said that with a straight face.

I wanted to cut it with a straight razor.