…sometime between 3a and 5a, I woke up drenched in sweat and needed to vomit likerightnow. So I got out of bed and headed for the toilet only I couldn’t stand properly - at all, really. I made it halfway before I fell into a bookcase and crawled the rest of the way to the bathroom, tried and failed to vomit, then decided I needed to shit. Hauled myself up onto the throne which is when my body decided it needed to vomit, after all. Passed out/fell asleep. Back off the pot, flushed, vomited again while draped over the toilet. Passed out again. Got sore in that position so I tried to sit up against the bathroom wall. Vomited again. Passed out again. Couldn’t stand up, couldn’t crawl. I started to hear people in the hall leaving for work. The front door was 3 feet away - way, way too far for me to move. Had I been able I’d have stuck my head out the door and asked someone to call for an ambulance. Worked my way to my phone a foot at a time - I’d push myself along the floor about a foot; vomit; brace myself against the wall; pass out. Finally made it to the phone and called 911, who sent fire and paramedics over. At this point I was half-naked - remember, had been sleeping, and only had on a tshirt, and there I am lying sprawled across the floor of the kitchen. Fucking embarrassing, but fire and rescue couldn’t’ have been more kind despite the fact there are some things no one needs to see. When they showed up I asked them what time it was, thinking it was 8 or 9 am. No. It was fucking NOON. It took me 6-7 hours to get from the toilet to my phone, 10 feet away.
By this time at least the vomiting stopped but as I sit here typing this my stomach feels like it’s done too many situps. My apartment is on the 3rd floor and there’s no elevator, of course, so they brought me down the stairs on a chair thing for my very first ambulance ride. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as it should have been; probably because I was afraid I’d puke again if I opened my eyes.
Gave me an IV and something to stop the nausea, thank science. And a CT scan. Slept for 4 hours in the ER while they took care of people in worse shape than me, slept another couple of hours - dozed, really - which means I was up all night and ran on fumes until I convinced them to give me something to knock me out Friday night.
I’ve started a new Livejournal on this dealover yonder (start at the bottom, of course) if you want to take a gander at all the gory details.
All of that was caused by Ahnold, which was the name of the malignant melanoma tumor I had taken out of my arm a couple of years ago. Turns out the bastard had evil, evil babbies, some of which lodged in my skull and swelled, hence the whole puke/pass out incident. Eventually they’re going to kill me but not right this second and not before the medical types get a little of their own back.
Any suggestions on what to send to the sweet nice people at the hospital who tolerated all of my terrible, awful, no-good jokes?
