Thursday, August 13, 2009

Thursday August 13th, late afternoon and early evening at home

Home. Home. Home. I feel a bit wobbly, but otherwise all is well. Both Rod and Barb attempted to stop by the hospital and both were delighted to learn I’m gone. Barb comes to the apartment and it’s great to see her.

Teri reschedules her flight for tomorrow morning and it feels like things are getting back the normal.

Of course I am still hungry and I think about Bella Mmmmmmonica. The other half. Waiting in the fridge. Adam heats it up and I dive in. Ah, delicious.

I go to the bathroom. Alone! Ah, the finer things.

I got my hospital bracelet off ages ago but I notice that there’s still a sticky with a button on me. I pull it off and toss the souvenir into a conveniently located garbage can.

All that sitting on the couch, Bella Monica and walking to the bathroom (and back!) must have tired me out so I head to my room to lie down. Ah, my room. My bed. My sheets. I’m not tethered to anything. And Diane has put the Taboo buzzer on my night table in case I need anything.

I shut my eyes. I open them. And then, no, no, no. Our apartment is sliding down Lake Boone Trail! The dizzies are back.

I don’t get drunk that much and after this I can’t imagine deliberately altering your mental state or perception. It’s crazy that my eyes are open but the world doesn’t look as I know it to be (level).

And, no, no, no. Here comes the Bella Monica.

The nausea doesn’t want to quit. I think I noticed a sandwich I had two weeks ago. And maybe Bella Monica I had two months ago.

Needless to say, I might have to find a new favorite restaurant. Or new dish, at least.

My dream team of Teri, Adam and Diane get pots from the kitchen.

I’m in a child’s pose on the bed, grabbing onto the fitted sheet.

The five orange flowers my friends brought me the other night are at my beside. I decide to focus on them. If that sort of thing works for a pregnant lady, it could work for me. But there are five. The last thing I need to worry about is double, or triple, or quadruple vision.

I bark at Adam, “Take away all the flowers but one.” Adam comes over and removes four of the flowers. Then he puts back one flower and asks me “How many flowers?”

“It’s not the time for a fucking test!” I bark again. Man, I am one mean bitch when I’m not feeling well.

Again, I’m dealing with unpleasant symptoms but likely am just as anxious because I don’t know what they mean. Nobody mentioned an encore of symptoms in the ICU. We look at the discharge papers and they are surprisingly slim on information.

Someone calls the hospital.

I need to calm down. Diane urges me to take deep breathes. My rendition of a deep breath is like a dog panting in 100 degree weather.

Once again, Diane takes charge and puts her hand on my chest and my hand on her chest.

She breathes in.

She breathes out.

I do the same.

I think I’ve just taken the first deep breath of my life.


It calms me. And the nausea subsides. I don’t want Diane to ever leave my side.

Diane gets my computer and asks me for a song I find calming. Suddenly, the contents of my entire library evade me and I ask for “Oh, Holy Night.”

It turns out to be an excellent breathing song. As soon as I can see straight I’m going to start meditating.

My breathing gets me calm to the point where I think I can sleep and I lie calmly in bed hoping I can just sleep this off. I’ve got a Dar Williams concert to attend on Friday!

I enjoy about 45 minutes of calmness and then wake up vomiting. The team agrees that I’ve got to go back to the hospital.

I have no problem going to the hospital. I just don’t know how I’m going to get there.

I’ve sweat through the t-shirt dress I’m wearing. I ask Teri for a tank top. She brings over several I reject. (On what grounds? Don’t ask me).

I ask for a pajama dress that’s hanging in my closet. Apparently it’s tangled from when I took it off. Diane is trying to figure it out. This time Teri takes charge “I’ve worn that dress!” she exclaims and in a few swift moves she’s got it untangled.

Of course at this point I decide the dress I’m wearing is just fine.

But I’m not ready. I need to use the bathroom. I crawl to the bathroom and shut the door. The toilet is close to the bathroom sink and I rest my head on the vanity.

I know that I need to keep moving and get myself out of this apartment but I can’t seem to gather up whatever it will take to make that happen. At this point I know that my friends are going to have to figure this out.

I’ve infantilized myself.
I’m lying on the floor.
Half of me in the bathroom.
The other half in the hallway.

“I’m going to crawl to the hospital,” I tell the Dream Team. And with that, they take charge.

Adam comes over to pick me up and carry me out.

“I can walk!” I proclaim and I just get myself up and we fly out of the apartment.

It’s a second floor apartment by the way. And, holy crap those stairs never looked so daunting.

Adam’s got one arm wrapped around my shoulders and the other at my waist.

“I’m gonna crouch!” I proclaim again and I stoop my way down the stairs making it increasingly difficult for Adam to support me.

We’re on the first floor and there’s an area where the cement is uneven and there’s always a little puddle there. We’re headed straight for it and I'm in bare feet. Despite the fact that I’m drenched in my own sweat I decide to step around the puddle. Adam has no idea I’m about to do a side step and we both tumble to the ground.

Adam is frustrated, he scoops up and somehow I’m stuffed into the car.

If I ever get kidnapped, I imagine this is how it will feel.

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