The Worm Turns, Act II

2:00 a.m. Ash pulls into one of the ambulance spots. Wonder if I should point this out. Decide they probably won't tow in the few minutes it will take me to get inside. I care infinitely more about getting inside than I do about a possible ticket or tow.

2:02 a.m.: I weigh how much???

2:03 a.m.: Sit in wheelchair for probably the first time in my life. Every bump in the floor sends a new wave of nausea skittering across my body. Hunch over and hold my stomach tightly, because this makes me feel marginally less likely to toss whatever might still remain of my cookies.

2:04 a.m.: Nice nurse takes my vitals and hands me what I presume is supposed to be an emesis basin, except that instead of being a basin, it's a long plastic tube that reminds me of a giant blue condom. Like for an elephant, maybe.

2:10 a.m.: In a hospital gown, but kept my comfy pants on. No bare butts for me! Also kept on socks. Should have worn something cuter than white footies. Clearly, this is impairing my fashion sense. Nausea still rolling over me in waves, but at least I don't feel so panicked now.

2:13 a.m.: Nice Nurse, whose name I've already forgotten, comes back to take some blood and insert an IV. Ash gamely tries to distract me from the freaky needles and the blood and the fact that they are sticking those freaky needles into me and my very own blood is dripping out of my vein. He is not very successful. Still, it was a valiant effort on his part.

2:17 a.m.: Need to use my gaint blue condom emesis "basin".

2:18 a.m.: What do I do with it now? Don't want Ash to have to touch it. That seems like more than a husband should have to do. Nice Nurse is off doing other nurse-y things. Don't know where a call button is, and don't think I should use it for something so small while in an emergency room anyway.

2:30 a.m.: Dr. Cheerful pops into my room to discuss my symptoms. He performs a physical exam, pressing on various areas. When he pokes the part around my navel, where I've been experiencing pain for a couple of hours, it hurts.

2:31 a.m.: No, wait. That didn't hurt. That was just a little discomfort, like when you bump your shin lightly into your cat. Because when he poked me down around my right hip, it hurt so bad I yelped and jackknifed up.

2:32 a.m.: Physical exam concludes with Dr. Cheerful manipulating my body into a couple of yoga-like poses, then poking. This stikes me as funny for some reason. If I didn't feel so awful, I would have giggled.

2:33 a.m.: Dr. Cheerful says, and I quote, "Hmmmm."

2:34 a.m.: Apparently I could have gallstones. But maybe I've got appendicitis. Or maybe it's something else altogether. Better run some more tests.

2:40 a.m.: Nurse Nice reappears to administer some drugs now that Dr. Cheerful has kindly ordered them. We discuss my very bad experience with Dilaudid. Would not make a good junkie, apparently. Nurse Nice says Dr. Cheerful gave her a couple of choices of pain medication in the same class, and suggests we try a different one. Apparently some people react badly to one and not to another.

2:41 a.m.: Oh, Fentanyl. You are so very much better than Dilaudid. Sweet relief.

2:42 a.m.: Ash makes the first of many jokes referencing Edgar Allen Poe and William Burroughs.

2:43 a.m.: Ash and Nurse Nice debate whether I should hope for gallstones or hope for appendicitis. I'm not sure I want to hope for either, but I also don't want to find out that I've made a mountain out of a molehill. But that doesn't mean I want to have surgery either. Nurse Nice states decisively that she'd take the appendicitis over the gallstones. I don't like the sound of that-- what makes gallstones worse than appendicitis? The treatment? The possible complications? The recovery period? The chances of successful treatment? If it weren't for the Fentanyl, I'd probably be freaking out right now.

2:45 a.m.: Oh, anti-emetic that I didn't hear the name of. You are my second-best friend, but only because Fentanyl made the bad pain go bye bye. We should all hang out together tonight.

2:49 a.m.: Some guy down the hall has turned on the TV and, from the sound of it, is trying to share the program with everyone else in the ER.

3:10 a.m.: An orderly comes to take me to CT. He looks like he's here in between rides with his buddies in the Patriot Guard Riders

3:11 a.m.: Stretcher ride through the hospital corridors is not as much fun as you might think. Acoustic ceiling tiles whip by dizzyingly.It's cold. Every bump dents my Fentanyl armor a little bit. Also, I do not want to make awkward small talk with the orderly because I feel so crappy, and then I feel guilty because I'm sure he's a very nice man and he's trying to be friendly and reassuring to me. So I try to make awkward small talk anyway.

3:13 a.m.: Biker Orderly rolls me onto my side so that I can be slid onto the board for the CT. My attempts to help only make matters more difficult, and the CT guy tells me to" pretend to be a log" -- this is easier said than done.

3:15 a.m.: CT scans are weird. Am I supposed to keep my eyes shut? What would happen if I opened them? The computer voice tells me to "Breathe in", then commands "Hold your breath." The problem is, it hurts to breathe in, so I'm not quite ready when the command to hold it comes up. What if that screws up the image? What if that makes them miss something important.

3:20 a.m.: Biker Orderly moves me back to the stretcher. On the way out of the department, he stops at a warming cabinet and brings me a toasty blanket. The CT rooms are very cold, and I've started to shiver. He noticed and cared enough to do something. I am really touched.

3:25 a.m.: That guy down the hall is arguing with the Nice Nurse and a doctor, presumably Dr. Cheerful. Apparently, he disagrees with them that there is nothing wrong with him and wants to be admitted RIGHT NOW.

3:27 a.m.: The guy down the hall continues to argue even though, as the entire ER can now hear, his test results have all been normal.

3:29 a.m.: Dr. Cheerful is holding fast. No more tests, no more treatments, time for this guy to go home and follow up with his doctor in the morning.

3:30 a.m.: That guy finally breaks down and agrees to leave, if they'll give him some drug I don't recognize. I don't hear the response, but wonder how doctors and nurses deal with idiots like this. TV has been blaring the entire time, necessitating the loud voices used by the doctor and the nurse-- there's only so much sound these partitions can block.

3:40 a.m.: TV switches off.

3:42 a.m.: The guy down the hall shuffles past toward the exit. He is morbidly obese and wearing a plaid bathrobe. He complains loudly the entire way down the hall. I would love to know the backstory there.

3:55 a.m.: Ash and I ponder whether this is going to be the first sunrise we've ever seen together. The fact that he is not a morning person is one of his more endearing qualities, if you ask me. I find the thought that we might experience our first sunrise from the confines of an emergency room incredibly amusing.

3:56 a.m.: Ash ruins my fun by recalling that we have, in fact, seen the sunrise together once before.

4:10 a.m.: Dr. Cheerful enters the room and perkily announces, "Guess what! You get to have your appendix out this morning!"

4:11 a.m.: Oh God.

4: 12 a.m.: Apparently, I shouldn't worry because if I'm lucky, Dr. Cutter will do it laparoscopically. If that's the better way to do it, why would any surgeon do it the other way? Why don't I get to tell the surgeon that I want it done that way?

4:13 a.m.: Nurse Nice stops in to check my vitals and tells me that they're going to have me admitted as soon as they can get a room for me upstairs. Ash asks how soon they will do the surgery and she says it will probably be pretty early-- maybe 7 or 8 a.m.

4:14 a.m.: Oh God.

4:15 a.m.: Nurse Nice leaves. I look at Ash and tearily mumble, "I've never even been in the hospital before." Ash staunchly points out that this is routine. No big deal, they do hundreds of these a year, if not thousands or millions. Nothing, really.

4:16 a.m.: Tell Ash that we should probably call into work. He laughs.

4:20 a.m.: Ash brought a big binder of work with him, and he's been trying to read all night. I did not bring anything with me because I was too distraught and sick. Right now, I wish I had something like a magazine, or something else light and amusing to distract me. Ash offers me his "leisure reading". I decline.

4:30 a.m.: Fentanyl, why are you leaving me? Did I say something wrong? Please don't go and leave me here with this pain!

4:45 a.m.: Nice Nurse arrives with a new dose. Thank heaven. She also tops off the anti-emetic and tells me they're waiting for a room.

4: 55 a.m.: I cannot stop interrupting Ash's reading to ask for reassurance. He valiantly refrains from biting my head off.

5:15 a.m.: I have been awake for nearly 24 hours, and I am pumped full of very strong drugs. But I cannot sleep, not even a little. I keep worrying about having someone cut me open, then I worry about staying in the hospital. I wonder how long I'll be in? They send you home after a couple of days when you have a C-section, right? And that involves really slicing you open, so if they do this one laparasopically, probably I'll be out the next day. That seems logical.

5:30 a.m.: Nice Nurse stops by to check my vitals and start a bag full of antibiotics. Burns, burns, burns, BURNSBURNSBURNS.

6:00 a.m.: The sky is slowly turning from black to blue, and the drugs are not really working anymore. Nice Nurse tells me I'll be going upstairs any minute, so I decide to wait until I get to the room. Besides, I'll probably be going to surgery really soon and then they'll pull out the big guns from the pharmacy.

6:15 a.m.: Still waiting. Fifteen minutes have never been so long.

6:20 a.m.: I want the drugs. But the orderly is here to take me to the surgical ward. I don't get the chance to say goodbye to Nice Nurse.

6:21 a.m.: Why are the hospital floors so bumpy?

6:22 a.m.: Remember back when tiny little video cameras became readily available, so every late night talk show came up with a "[fill-in-the-blank]-cam"? And the audience would howl with laughter at shaky video with odd perspectives? Laying flat on my back, watching the ceiling tiles fly by feels a lot like watching "stretcher-cam" footage.

6:25 a.m.: They want me to scoot myself from the stretcher into the bed. Suuuuure, I'll do that for you. Oh, you're serious??

6:26 a.m.: The nurse taking care of me up here is NOT nice. In fact, I will call her Nurse Bates, as in Kathy Bates, because I can't remember the name of the crazy nurse that she played in Misery. She is brusque and rough and leaves without bringing me the drugs I've asked for several times, or even mentioning when she will be back with them.

6:31 a.m.: Ash points out the window. The sky is pink and gold. The dawn of my last day with all my organs.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Worm Turns, Act I

WARNING: THIS IS A MEDICAL DRAMA AND INVOLVES TALK OF GRODY THINGS

Sunday, August 9, 2009

10:00 p.m.: Arrive at home after teaching a very satisfactory class, fall straight into bed.

11:30 p.m.: Wake up in a cold sweat, feeling vaguely disoriented.

11:35 p.m.: Ash comes to bed. The jostling of his climb into bed breaks loose a wave of nausea and I run for the bathroom.

11:55 p.m.: I want to lay down on the cool tile of our bathroom floor and wait for the nausea to pass or for the inevitable to happen.

11:56 p.m.: Our bathroom floor is disgusting. When is the last time someone swept the floor in here?

11:57 p.m.: Move to the hallway floor in front of the bathroom. Better because it's clean. Worse because hardwood is not as cool as tile. Stomach cramps are making the nausea worse. Getting to the point of actually wanting to puke, but not quite there yet.

11:59 p.m.: Worry that Ash will get up to find out if I'm okay and accidentally step on me. Move to floor of Ash's office, next to the bathroom.

12:02 a.m.: Carpet is too warm. Fan is not on and room is too stuffy. Fan is also too far away to consider turning on. Think about moving back to the bathroom floor. Remember gross dust bunnies. Stay put.

12:15 a.m.: Please, God, let me puke. At least I'll feel better then.

12:30 a.m.: I do not feel better. That is very strange. You always feel better after you puke, even if you're going to puke again later.

12:35 a.m.: Bathroom floor not so bad. Want to die.

12:39 a.m.: Reassure Ash that I've just got some stupid bug. I'll be back to bed in a little while when my stomach settles down.

12:50 a.m.: Getting worried now. Consult Dr. Google. Get a lot of mumbo jumbo about stomach flu. This feels much worse than any stomach bug I've ever had.

1:10 a.m.: Take temperature. 99.6 is not exactly a raging fever. Is that good? Don't you usually get a fever with a stomach bug? If so, does that mean the lack of a fever is bad? Perhaps I can return to Dr. Google's office for a follow-up consultation if I just lay here on the nice, cool tile for a minute.

1:30 a.m.: Wake Ash up. Not sure what I think he's going to do, but I need a cooler head here. No, the pain isn't on the right side. No, I'm not running a fever. OK, sweetie, you're probably right, it's just a stomach bug. I'm going to go lay in the bathroom again for awhile.

1:32 a.m.: Being sick in the middle of the night suuuuuuucks. Hopefully this stomach bug will be gone by morning. Guess I'll have to call in. Maybe I can just take a half day and sleep a little later.

1:34 a.m.: How can I be this nauseous and not throw up?

1:36 a.m.: Also? The stomach cramps are awful. What on earth is UP with this? AND my back is killing me.

1:38 a.m.: What if this isn't the stomach flu? Wonder what the symptoms of appendicitis are?

1:39 a.m.: Pain starting around the navel-- CHECK. Fever-- nope. Pain migrates to right side-- well, not yet, but who knows what will happen later? Back pain? CHECK. Nausea-- CHECK. Vomiting-- CHECK.

1:40 a.m.: Oh God.

1:41 a.m.: Naaaaaaaaw. Who actually ends up with the illnesses that they find by Dr. Google? No one, that's who.

1:42 a.m.: Oh God.

1:43 a.m.: Maybe I should just wait until morning and see how this goes. I mean, really, I cannot go the emergency room just to be told "You've got a stomach bug. Go home, drink lots of fluids, get some rest."

1:44 p.m.: Oh God.

1:45 p.m.: OK, seriously, I've got to get some perspective. Am I overreacting here? WHY does this stuff always happen in the middle of the night? Should I wake up Ash? Gah, he's got to work in the morning, I'd better let him sleep.

1:46 p.m.: The tile isn't cold enough anymore.

1:48 p.m.: This carpet is too warm.

1:50 p.m.: Oh God.

1:51 p.m.: Re-read symptoms. Oh God.

1:52 p.m.: Wake up Ash. Insist that he join me for a consultation with Dr. Google. Ash wearily agrees. The skepticism is rolling off of him in waves, but he offers to take me to the ER if I think it's necessary.

1:54 p.m.: We throw on some clothes. I have the foresight to wear my softest elastic waistband pants. I do not have the foresight to put my headband back on to keep my hair out of my sweaty face. This will drive me crazy in the very near future. Ash waits for me to lace my shoes, which is difficult, what with the nasty pain in my stomach. I grab a bucket from the bathroom on the way out. You know, just in case. God, please don't let me have to use it.

1:55 p.m.: Can't make it down the stairs. Wait on bench in front of the building for Ash to pull the car around. Hurts to sit. Hurts to stand. This sucks.

1:56 p.m.: Ash asks me which hospital I want to go to. Who cares? THE ONE THAT'S MAYBE A MILE AWAY. How about that one? Ash hits the gas and we're off.

TO BE CONTINUED...

TV Guide for Aliens

What other places in the Universe are watching on TV tonight.

You Can't Handle the Truth!

Overheard while shopping at Kohl's this morning:

"Don't you trust me?"
"No."
"Well, that wasn't very nice to say!"

Three Ways

I stole this from Paca over a year ago and never got around to finishing it. Still here it is, my life in threes:

3 Ways I am a stereotypical wife:
I do most of the cooking and meal planning, as well as the grocery shopping.
I have way more shoes and clothes than Ash does.
I like my towels folded a certain way and put in a certain place.

3 Things I'd like to hear:
"Congratulations on winning the Powerball jackpot, Katze!"
"The sellers of your dream house have agreed to sell it to you for $1 because they just want to make you happy."
"All federal student loans are being forgiven, effective immediately."

3 Things I'd like to be able to say:
"We love living in Munich."
"I love my job."
"Don't worry Mom and Dad, we can take care of you. Just go ahead and retire."


3 Debates that shouldn't be a matter of left versus right
Climate change, health care, education.

3 People I have been smitten with in my life (embarassing or not) other than my husband:
Because it's more fun to hear about the horrible dates than to hear a story that goes "He was great, but it just wasn't right", here are three terrible episodes from my romantic past.

When I was on the Congress Bundestag program, I made friends with another exchange student who lived in the same region of Germany (though not particularly close by), and promptly developed the most merciless crush and unrequited crush on his host brother. Ditto for this friend of one of the guys who lived in the apartment next door to my first apartment. And finally, I was totally mad about this guy who I dated for a short period of time before I met Finbar. This one was not unrequited, and I thought things were going along quite nicely when all of a sudden I found myself dumped because (according to the angsty break up note-- a NOTE!)he was just too worried that we might get serious and then he'd have to give up all of his dreams and get married. May I note, please, that we were 19 years old when we were dating? And that I certainly didn't have any such plans in mind, and that even if I had, I most definitely did NOT have "become a housewife in rural Ohio" as one of my dreams for the future.

3 Things I wish were true:
That Ash and I both had jobs we love and made enough doing them to do most of the things we would like to do without any worry about money.
That the people we love will always be well and always be with us.
That people always get what they deserve -- or at least that the people who deserve it most would get the good things.


3 Things I wish were false.
That we will not finish paying our student loans until after our children, should we have any, go to college.
That our country is terribly divided.
That the idea of America of a meritocracy is akin to a fairy tale.

Your Call is Important to Us

One of my friends at work has the unfortunate job of returning customer calls routed to our department from my company's 1-800 number. It's not that the calls are particularly onerous or time-consuming-- she only gets a handful a day. It's more the occasional crazy that pops up from time to time.

For example...

A gentleman left a voicemail saying "My name is Unstable McNeedsadrink. Please return my call at 893 555-1234." No other information to indicate why he was calling, what company he was calling from, or anything else. This happens more frequently than you might imagine. Apparently people think we're just a small mom and pop shop with a handful of customers that we all know by name. Let's just say that we're no Microsoft,but we are the largest company in our industry.

If someone's going to help Mr. Needsadrink with whatever he needs help with, a little detective work is in order. So my coworker dials his number, intending to find out what he wants and re-route him to the appropriate person.

"Hello, this is Kristen Reed calling from My Company. I'm returning your call from earlier--"

[Mr. Needsadrink interrupts] "Take me off your list"

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't want whatever you're selling. Take me off your list."

"Oh, this is not a sales call, you --"

[Mr. Needsadrink interrupts angrily] " I TOLD YOU TO TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST!" [slams down the phone]

Kristen is just waiting for the day when he calls back to yell at someone because "no one is returning his calls".

Memories Redux

10 years ago today: June 8, 1999: I was working full time at Avon. Worst. Job. Ever. (And I've worked fast food and done a stint in the KMart Layaway, so that's saying something.) At the same time, I was tutoring a high school student in German during the week and babysitting on most weekend nights. This was also the summer that a friend of a friend introduced me to her au pair, who had just arrived from Germany and was feeling a little shell-shocked. We started hanging out with each other on a regular basis, speaking German and shopping at Old Navy. Claudia, the au pair, used to tease me because I would always swear that I wanted to buy something "different", and would always end up buying khaki shorts and dark blue, black, and white tops. My wardrobe certainly was neutral that summer.

5 years ago today: June 8, 2004. I was planning my move to Our Fair City with Hulio. We were getting ready to meet here for an apartment hunting trip, and I was not at all certain where the law school was, what sort of neighborhood it might be in, or where we should be looking to live. Hulio was not at all certain whether or not she was actually going to come with me. We laugh sometimes at the conversations she would have with people who asked her why she moved here: "Well, my best friend goes to law school here." "Ummmm... OK. So, why did you move here again?"

EDITED BECAUSE LUNERAY IS TOTALLY RIGHT.

So, um, actually I was in Our Fair City, getting ready to leave for Sweden in about a week's time. It would have been about this point that I learned from my student loan lender that, in fact, they would NOT be disbursing my loans because the program in Sweden wasn't considered "academic in nature". Which is ludicrous on several levels, first and foremost because the program required something like six hours of class per day. Fortunately/ Unfortunately, depending on how you look at things, I'd already put the course fees on my credit card. It had seemed like the expedient course of action at the time, what with needing to be able to pay in Swedish Kronor and not yet having the student loans I'd been promised in hand. I am still paying off that credit card today-- that's the unfortunate part. On the other hand, the fact that I had already paid the non-refundable fee meant that there was no backing out, so I couldn't feel too guilty about going ahead with the plans despite the lack of funding. I had an amazing summer and met Luneray, and that wouldn't have happened if I'd found out about the no-student-loans thing earlier.

On a side note, I can tell you exactly what I wasn't doing on June 8, 2004: packing for my trip to Sweden. I remember Hulio yelling at me, and I made a bet with her that I could go from "nothing is ready to go" to "let's leave for the airport" in less than two hours. I totally won that bet. I AM THE QUEEN OF PACKING FOR LONG TRIPS!! Of course, I am correspondingly bad at packing for short trips.

1 year ago today: June 8, 2008: According to my blog, I went to see Iron Man.

Yesterday: Ash and I went to buy a new bike helmet for him and ended up buying a bike for me. Then we took the new bikes to the park and rode them on the bike trail. This was the first time I was on a bike since I borrowed Luneray's bike in Sweden. I've never really spent any time on a bike in the US, so I kept catching these gentle waves of cognitive dissonance. It was kind of weird, nerve-wracking, and annoying to share the path with pedestrians at the park, because, you see, they don't know the Rules of the Road... that I learned in Germany. I had to laugh at myself because I was irritated that the walkers didn't keep to the right, and I kept wanting to ring my (non-existent) bike bell to make them move over. Another somewhat frightening bit of habit I struggled with was my inability to remember that THIS BIKE DOES NOT HAVE COASTER BRAKES. See, every other bike I've ridden had coaster brakes, and I would want to slow down, encounter no resistance on the back pedal and my heart would skip a beat while I tried to make the hand brakes work without causing myself to flip over the handlebars. I am clearly a menace who should not be on the road/ bike path. And Ash kept turning around to tell me to go faster. I think he might be trying to get my life insurance money, but the joke's on him because I didn't take out a big enough policy to pay off all of my debts. HAHAHAHA!

Tomorrow: Work. Ick. I mean, don't get me wrong: I'm very grateful to have a job at all. But I'm not sure that where I am is a good place for me. I'm bored AND stressed all the time, which is a very bad combination. There was apparently some drama today, but I was working from home, so I'll have to get the blow-by-blow tomorrow.

5 snacks I enjoy: Any cereal with a cartoon figure on the box, popsicles, Grießbrei, sweet popcorn, and Twizzlers.

5 bands that I know the lyrics to most of their songs: Patty Griffin, REM, U2, Billy Joel,

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Pay off student loan debt for myself and several of my dear friends, give my parents enough money so that they could quit their crappy jobs and do something that makes them happy, set up a scholarship fund, travel, buy a home.

5 locations I'd like to run away to: Iceland, Germany (specifically to my little town in Bavaria), Hawaii, Finland, .

5 bad habits I have:
- Too impatient and not good enough at hiding it.
- Chewing my pens and pencils
- Procrastinating
- Staying up too late.
- Being hesitant about important things.

5 things I like doing: travelling, learning new languages, eating, spending time with close friends,


5 things I would never wear:
A halter top, those pointy toed super high-high heels that have been so popular lately, a micro-mini skirt, a baseball cap facing any way other than forward, one of those "maxi dresses" that look like someone sewed a tablecloth together and added some straps.


5 TV shows I like: Iron Chef (only the Japanese version, and I am still angry that I can't watch on Food Network anymore and can't buy the show on DVD), Scrubs, The Daily Show, Clean House, Friends

5 movies I like: Amelie, Mary Poppins, Office Space, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, The Big Lebowski

5 biggest joys of the moment: Being married to my perfect match, sunshine, getting a break from teaching that allows me to get some physical activity for a change, new books waiting to be read, Jenna's inability to act sane at all anymore (she's just too cute).

5 favorite toys: My laptop, my knitting, my new bike!, my french press (made some seriously awesome coffee this morning), Katamari.