I’m a bit fraggle-rock lately – ie since moving my hubby to my Dad’s house and my Ezzie and I being elsewhere and my commuting back and forth from SC and back – so I thought I’d come and comment later about the beautious and exciting wedding I attended this weekend. Or how after I’d gotten an awesome position that could only be improved upon because more money is always useful… now I get a call from the DA’s office. Totally forgot about that application. Since it’s been a year. But now that I’m here in the Emergency Room with Joshua – having inexplicably wanted to cry the whole drive to pick him up and no not because he’s a baby and I’m a protective mama… but kinda because when he hurts himself I wanna beat him… does that make sense? – where was I?

OKAY! So we’re here at the ER which is actually pretty tame. Like, my childhood/college memories of the ER were per-ty rank, mon frere. So, the only thing is that this woman is talking really loudly on the phone about some pretty skerry stuff, yo. Like this blog I found of a woman who called herself HOPE who basically kept a blog as a means of people finding her (turns out she was homeless and also CRAZ-TY!!%$!). So, funny story/true story: the woman who’s talking about how she’s not a criminal and that’s why she’s here and not in the big house? Well, as you probably guessed, she’s not talking on the phone! Nay, mon puce, nay. She, indeed, is talking to herself. Well. One of her selves. And that diatribe that was so animated the first time around? Turns out she’s running on a loop. No. Joke. I’ve heard crazy rants. But I have NEVER. NEVER. Heard one on Tivo. Yeeeeeeah. When it was our turn to go to window four, I mentioned to the woman that we might need security. Jk. That’s my much-used Jamie Foxx reference. No, I was all, “Has um…anyone noticed the 5150 walking about?” And her eyes got kinda wide as she explained that they usually keep those patrons in another hall while they wait, but that the hall…is full… so we have no idea what the staff is really dealing with. Huge lol.

The thing about hospitals is that. No one likes them. I mean, duh, no one loves going to the hospital unless it’s a pregnant woman who feels drawn to the Labor and Delivery wing before she actually needs to be there. But seriously. I get that no one likes them. But not every one has the same level of dislike/fear of them. See, I have this crazy thing where every time I go to the hospital for something I’d like to rationalize, they tell me something’s actually wrong. Jerks. So, I’m in the hall waiting for Josh. And they – for whatever sadistic reason – have this fake wind/hallow voices record playing. And believe me: it must be a record because this is not a natural sound. It sounds like howling wind but there’s no breeze… and it also sounds like sighing voices. Why, friends? Why must you psychologically assault me every time I step into your unnecessarily and unconvincingly “sterile” halls? And those bowed mirror things? They’re not really for safety. They’re to freak me out.

And so, now that we’ve been here for a while, Josh’s pain (on being touched, mind you, not on trying to move or rotate his ankle or apply pressure to his foot) is at a 1 or 0. Loverly. But you just know if you didn’t go in, there’s be fluid build-up and then clotting and then the clot would travel to his heart and then I’d turn into the Hulk. Anywho, he can’t walk so I guess we should figure this out before he needs to work tomorrow.

So. What else? How’s your day gone? (Oh wait, someone’s trying to fight a triage nurse!)


6 thoughts on “L’hopital

  1. I’m just gonna leave a comment instead of editing: a) Josh says his “shit” (read: ankle) hurts and that the triage dude was asking about the cuts on his arm not the ankle. Better be true, yo. b) Did I forget to mention how it smells like fritos and hair grease?


  2. OK, did I miss the bit where you explain what the hell happened to him!?

    I got steroids shot into my back the other day…..that’s my medical story for the month.


  3. 1) Holy crap – what for?!?
    2) I guess I failed to mention that, riding his bike home from work (ie from downtown to Daddy’s house), he crashed due to trash and wayward water (?) and possibly broke his ankle, scraped up his booty and forearms. None of which is a big deal but the increasing pain of the first thing. I’m waiting for him to get back from x-ray. *thumbs up…my butt*


  4. Update: It’s not broken, just sprained. Still can’t walk on it non the less. It has been 48hrs now I can put weight on it, but it still hurts, its swollen, I’m using crutches and the dogs and Ezra keep running into my foot. Happy 4th


  5. Pingback: Oldies But Goldies « Prune Candy

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