Because No One Puts Baby in the Corner

Not to upstage Jeremiah or anything, but late on Friday night I was admitted to the emergency room. As I was not able to drive and Jeremiah is on strict orders not to drive, I am going to say that we flew to the ER. Or rode horseback. Which sounds more realistic?

My joints/muscles were flamed up and I was in excruciating pain. Nothing was helping. Not a bath, not gentle massage, not heat. Nothing. I couldn't lie down, couldn't sit. The only thing I could do was pace. And cry. And there was some screaming mixed with snot-filled sinuses, which I am sure was a treat.

So we went to the ER using our wings/horses. It is really close to our house, and suburbia is quite quiet at one thirty in the morning. So our horses encountered minimal traffic.

I was almost immediately given a bed, even though they were packed. This did not matter because I could not sit down and spent my time standing and pacing the room until they made me lie down to get an IV.

At this point, they told me that I would be getting morphine, something for nausea, and valium. And then I started to cry, because I HATE drugs of any kind and they scare me. Plus, the nurse could not find any veins (typical) and ended up using the inside of my arm, half way up. Very painful, Friends. So I was snot crying about the pain, stress, sleeplessness, and the fear of the morphine.

Then after, I felt a little better. Still in pain, but not crying because my back was touching the bed. Also not pain free enough to be considered okay, so I got my second dose of morphine. At this point, I cared a little less. Also at this point, conversations became a bit more interesting.

Me: Ooh, Roseanne is on! I love this show!
J: Okay...
Me: I love John Goodman.
J: Quizzical look in my direction
Me: He's bringing sexy back, Jeremiah.
J: Really? Should I gain a hundred pounds?
Me: Well, no. But you would look GOOD in that flannel shirt. And with some curly hair. At this point in the conversation, I may have growled a little. This is an argument we have had for years. I think Jeremiah should bring back the cowboy look. I don't know if it's because he grew up on a farm or what, but I think he could rock the boots, hat, and plaid/flannel shirt. I never win this argument. 
Nurse: How are we doing in here?
J: Oh, I think the morphine is kicking in.

And also this, about an hour into the stay:
J: Shit. This chair is really uncomfortable.
Me: Oh, really?
J: Yeah.
Me: Yeah? You let me know when you sleep in one of those chairs for THREE WHOLE DAYS while watching someone you love in the aftermath of a craniotomy, then we will talk.

I am home now and feeling better, but not too psyched about the fact that I have had such a serious episode, because my doctor has helped me manage it so well, it worries me that something like this managed to sneak through the meds.

Diseases suck.

So how was your weekend?

p.s. My nurse looked like Jane Lynch and was almost as funny. That could be the morphine talking, but I really do think she was funny.

p.p.s. I have added a picture of my bruise so you can feel my pain.
This is where they shot the morphine into me. Or, as we now know it, the truth serum. After Roseanne ended, Three's Company came on and I announced to Jeremiah that young John Ritter was hot.

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