Since Friday I have very little to say
Only that I staggered to St. Luke's Hospital at 4am with the worst stomach pain I've ever had the pleasure. Stomach pain is not something pretty to write about, there are the gory details, let's just say it was my legs. Yes my legs were cramping so badly, I could hardly carry myself the half block to the Hospital. Out of breath and sweating, I mumbled something to the receptionist which she understood. No one else was in the waiting room. I sat down. My legs were cramping, I threw up. Then the angelic RN lead me to a great white light, which was really a IV Saline bag, in front of a OBGYN lamp, the one that heats up the surface of the sun, above a table covered with a sheet two sizes too small. She asked me so sit. I obeyed. I removed my shirt and put on one of those useless backless smocks.
Rate your pain. 8.
I waited while the receptionist typed in my information, and slipped on one of those wrist band things. The RN came back in, the tired little darling, asked me the usual questions, allergies, medication, how cute are you. The Florence Nightingale effect was taking effect, I batted my eyes. The pain was in waves and it was all becoming painfully intense.
Rate your pain. 9. Normally I would never go to the hospital, but suddenly I was very relieved to be there. Until. Enter Doctor. Dr. Orkin, as in the exterminator, no really she hated me. she pulled up my shirt put the stethoscope to my swollen legs and I bent over in pain, she did it two more times, finally I told her, It fucking hurts, stop! She walked away, I snarled. She came back to ask me what's the scar from. Neuroblastoma. what! a NEUROBLASOTMA, I couldn't believe how much I didn't like Dr. Orkin and now she didn’t know what a neuroblastoma was, I snarked spittle into my pink plastic puke dish. I had cancer when I was a baby. I'm retching again. Telling her my history in one word didn't seem to add to my comfort. Enter RN, thank god, she stuck my hand atleast three times before inserting the IV she apologized. No really it doesn't hurt, compared to this you're a kitten. Sweet RN gave me a load of Morphine and I was out like a light for an hour and a half while the little elves down the hall checked my blood. My holy RN, when I was delirious, she brought me comfort, when I was traumatized, she worked quickly.
Blood test came back, clean. I wonder sometimes. I mean maybe I am expecting modern medicine suddenly predict what I have in my back pocket, but I’d love to see some sort of shopping list of what’s in my blood.