I often seek out new experiences to add to the richness of my life. Last night, I’m utterly thrilled to say, I experienced my first ambulance ride.
At first, I tried to muscle through a bastardly case of food poisoning, but when consciousness threatened desertion, I gave in.
“Biiii. Buhhh! Brriii,” I called from my throne of despair. Bill heard his not-name and came to the door of my misery chamber. “Caa shpitul. Nee mekul tnshin.” Luckily, my Spousal Unit is fluent in Stupor.
Yesterday was cooking day, and I ate many delicious things, including lasagna, hash, and a Subway sandwich. All of these things were shared equally with my hale and hearty Spousal Unit, except one: Rainier cherries. AKA: Death Globes.
We live about two block from a firehouse, so the guys showed up first. I was most disappointed. Yeah, sure, they were fit and conventionally pretty. Even crush-worthy–if I were 17. This was about 1am, and I imagine the more senior and dashingly rugged firefighters get the day shift. Really must time my horrible illnesses better. Of course, I was barely conscious, so with my luck, the hottie was on the periphery while I wasn’t strong enough to turn my head. The boys took my blood pressure and asked me questions.
Next, the EMTs showed, also very quickly. We live in a posh neighborhood with elderly folks. I imagine they know the way. The EMTs were jovial, straightforward women. They took my blood pressure and asked me questions. Then the firemen thought it would be hilarious to use their air horn in the middle of a very quiet neighborhood at 1am (and to be fair, it was), and we were off.
During the ride, they poked me with needles, some more successful than others. I will be forever grateful for the Zor-something they put in that IV (even though it took two tries and some vein mangling), because soon I felt well enough to smile and joke a little. I apologized for possibly leaving blue hair dye on their stretcher. They said that would be the nicest thing they’ve had left on their stretcher all day.
At the hospital, they took my blood pressure and asked me questions.
Bless one of the EMT guys for bringing me a heated blanket. Did you know? When you really need a hospital, you don’t think about things like: dang, I’m only wearing pyjamas. Yep, I was braless and shoeless, and I so didn’t care.
I think the primary method of treatment at hospitals is to bore you into feeling better. Everyone was very nice, except for the doctor, who was tired and efficient. My nurse had Captain America scrubs, and lamented that she could no longer dye her hair purple because of a hospital policy change. She was my age. I don’t find many of My People here in Florida, so it’s always happy-making when I do. Thought the weight thing was funny: I told her I weighed about 300lb, and she said: “Oh honey, you are not that big. I’m putting down 280.” Um, thanks?
They fed me horrible tasting things, gave me a magical pill, and allowed me my undignified escape. They did give me warm socks. And I stole a blanket.
I’m still a little ooky, but loads better. I have certainly lost my taste for cherries.