And all that good crap. I’m just glad I made it home with all my parts intact.
Really, I was glad Joe took me in. Looking back, three weeks ago I got stomach flu which ended me in the hospital for several days. I had a week to get better and we went to a dinner party and three people sat next to me and started a conversation which firmly ended when I stood up after they announced “I have a terrible chest cold, don’t you hate coming to parties ill?” No, what i truly hate are people who come to parties ill knowing that they may infect others who can’t fight it as well as you. (I honestly don’t think I was that polite, I really don’t.)
Monday was spent feeling generally crappy. Moped around the house, bitched, whined and complained. When I wasn’t bitching I was sleeping. My chest felt like it had an iron band wrapped around it. Not good. Went to doctors and he (oh e oh ah ah, ting tang, walla walla, bing bang) Sorry reverted to childhood there. Thinking witch doctor. Anyway, he tells me I’m sick, I have an infection in my lung. He gives me a shot in the butt and a prescription for some Mega Antibiotics. I go home, back to sleep.
Tuesday, I came down with Pleurisy. This is an infection of the Plenum, the lining around the lung that protects it from the ribs. This infection causes extreme pain when you cough, sneeze, inhale. And I had to cough. My lungs were still full of fluid, more like peanut butter, and I had to get it out. Every time I coughed I had to grab my ribs on my left side and squeeze as tight as I could, lean into the wall and hope it passed quickly. It didn’t.
Wednesday, I fought it. Coughing was becoming a contact sport with the wall. I was fighting to clear this crud up. I even tried that crap, you know, the one with the green snots dancing till dawn then getting kicked out. Waste of $8 if you ask me. I was up all night coughing with a stabbing pain in my side.
Thursday early, I finally Vicodined out for a few hours, but when I woke up, it was so much worse. I could barely draw a shallow breath. I called Joe, told him I needed to get to ER now. Put on my comfy socks and sweats, grabbed my hospital blanket put my slippers on and sat down to wait for him. We get to the hospital at 10:30 am and are immediately taken into the ER. I think the fact that my regular physician was told I was going in and he greased the skids a bit. By the time we got there all I could take were shallow breaths. My pulse ox was down to 85 and it was kinda scary.
By this time I am in the capable hands of my doctors and everything else until Sunday afternoon is a blur. And unless you have pictures and can prove it in a court of law, then I’m denying, denying, denying. I know I was sick enough to get two pints of blood and for the nurses to be really cheery around me. Or maybe that was just me being my charming self.
Either way, I’m home now. My own bed feels like heaven, and although I do miss the room service, it’s good to be home.