Been feeling a quart low this past month. Doesn't help my, why do "they" always say better half, is an obituary reader. So, the story goes like this ... For about a week I was feeling light headed. Then, after I ate, to be precise, a hour or so after I ate I would just feel awlful. Nausea, dizzy, just plain icky and my chest would kind of hurt. One day after feeling sick at lunch then trying to run errands and feeling worse I came home and chilled out for a little while trying to let things ease off a bit. All the while in the back of my mind I was running the list of signs for women having heart attacks through my head.
Later that evening while preparing dinner my, 'better half', read off yet another obituary of a friend we use to work with. I still wasn't feeling well and was trying to figure out if in fact these were signs or I was just crazy ... I wanted a good sign. Well as my husband read the obit I had a couple sharp pains in my left arm and shoulder. So I took a deep breath and went into the living room and explained it might not mean anything but then again if I just kept standing in there and ignored them the next damn obituary he could be reading would be mine ... His guess was as good as mine so we went to the ER.
This is where it got more interesting then I had planned on. They actually whisk you in there like you're on fire. As I was wheeled in to the room there were three nurses standing there with all kinds of equipment and they asked me to take my shirt and bra off. My husband sat down and I stripped down from the waist up and laid down while they connected all kinds of stuff to me. A guy nurse walks in and attempts to take blood from my arm and blows a couple veins in the process and all the sudden my arm looks like the 4th of July .... But wait the fun is just about to start ... All the sudden someone asks "How much do you weigh?" ... ... ... ... There was a solid minute of total silence when I looked at my husband and back at the crowd and back at my husband. I knew this was an important question and it could be a life or death question when it came to medicine so I knew I had to answer it correctly. I also knew I was skinny when I married my husband. Over the span of 26 years I was no longer skinny and yes I knew he knew I was no longer skinny ... He on the other hand had no earthly idea how much I REALLY weighted. I took soo long that a nurse said "he isn't listening". I looked at him again silently begging him to leave the room. The guy in him didn't budge. My face turn beet red. I know it did because it felt red hot. I turned to the nurses and said "200 pounds and the earth might as well open up and swallow me right now." I didn't look at him and he didn't say anything and hasn't said anything about it since. I also comment that if I wasn't having a heart attack when I came in I was probably having one now!
Shorty after that they admit me to the hospital for observation. I sent the "better half" home to get my bath kit, medicine and underwear. Figured I would need some since I don't wear any and hospital gowns are open backed. I'm thinking they probably are not going to want me sleeping in the buff. This was another challenge for Hubby and I. I explained where the emergency underwear were kept in a drawer in a bag marked underwear or panties. The wheels of admittance move slow and we only live a mile and a half from the hospital so he was back pretty fast. We waited awhile and finally it was so late and he had to get up so early that we just decided I would call him with the room number and he could go home and get some sleep.
I guess they actually were having a busy night and had to call nurses in to work. They came and wheeled me, my bed and all my stuff to a room. I get there, switch to the new bed and settle in with new hook ups, floor nurses, etc. Good thing now is that I am wireless all my leads are strapped to me and I can freely move around.
So... I head to the bathroom to take my jeans off and put said panties on. You have to love Husbands. They try. I don't believe they pay a damn bit of attention to a thing you do, but I think, they think, they do. I have already said I don't wear underwear and neither does he and never have we done so. We keep a couple pair stashed for special occasions, doctors appointments, fancy clothes that call for them and "hospital stays". Well giving credit were credit is do he has never seen me running around the house in said underwear. And being a female, and on occasion vain, I have another set of black, white, biege spandex tummy tuck girdle thingies for dresses ... When you aren't wearing suck you thin pantyhose ... You got it ... That is what he brought for me to wear, the nice shiny tiny tummy tight beige ones. I about died in that bathroom. But really I would rather have died in there then said a damn thing to him about them tiny things not being my underwear. Like a 200 pound ass would fit comfortably in them?????
Then the cherry on the top of the whole evening. I am laying in the bed and the nurse is finishing up, it is now 4 in the morning, and I am tired, sore, cranky and my 'underwear' is cutting the circulation off to my brain, as she is fiddling with the sides of the bed she pulls them up and says "201, right?" In my head I'm thinking 201? I thought she said I was in room 312?, I still have to call my husband and give him the room number. What is she talking about? She looks at me again. "201?" I answer "201, what?" "Your weight, you weigh, 201?" "What!? The bed weighted me?" "Yes." "Oh, yeah, 201." What the heck is that. If they would have had beds like that in the ER I could have held off that second heart attack!
Part 2 is in search of your Gallbladder ...
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