Sheesh, okay already! 
Drae, that is uber-sucky. I’ve only been to the ER twice; once to was to accompany a friend who was having a panic attack, only he’d never had a panic attack before, so he only knew that he felt like he was going to die. Fortunately, the attack subsided not too long after we got to the ER, so we just left. The other time, I had a severe and a less-severe knife wound in my hand and a stab-wound in my back, so I only had to wait for about an hour.
Drae, this is why you go to the ER earlier in the day! They’re not as busy. 
Oh, Drae, that’s awful. You need sleep, chocolate, and sympathy.
May I complain?
I think my stupid, stupid subconcious has decided that the best time for me to fall asleep is when Mr. Lissar leaves in the morning. We will definitely not relax, it thinks, until it is 5:30. Yes, it thinks, 5:30 is a good time to fall asleep. Then we will get about 5 hours of sleep a night, and we will be happy!
No, we won’t. And my sleep meds seem to have become ineffective. I will make another doctor’s appointment, and we will stare at each other helplessly because neither of us has a clue why I spontaneously developed chronic insomnia ten months ago!
Argh.
Oh, well. First batch of bread is started, I’ve got tea steeping, and I’ll run errands in a bit.
{{{{{Drae}}}}} When I’m home and have the time to remember the details and tyoe it out, I will regale you all with my ER nightmare
**TWO ** - your kitty knows how to handle a blade???
UGH!! ERs are the pits unless your hubby is having 100% blockage of the right coronary artery. Then they are sweet! Sorry you got stuck in one, drae. Back just before the holidays in 1999 I came down with the flu. By New Year’s Eve I was alternately shivering and sweating. I was drinking as much water as I could but I probably should have been drinking gatorade. Anyhoo, Mr. Anachi wanted to take me to the hospital. Hmmmm, let see…New Year’s Eve 2000…join the heart attacks, stabbings, bullet wounds, drunken accident victims, attempted suicides, etc??? I’ll pass. Luckily, I recovered anyway. 
Nurse Chlamydia seemed a little annoyed with me at first–until I explained that this was my first ever hospital visit, and then she was duly impressed. I have had three previous ER visits–one where the doctor told me to get over myself because I just had the flu, one that consisted almost solely of a quick, impersonal pelvic exam and confirmation that I’d had a very early-term miscarriage and that I should see my doctor if anything appeared wrong, and the last when I sprained my wrist. Never had I spent more than two hours waiting before.
This morning, I called my regular doctor to alert them that I’d, y’know, gone to the hospital. I have yet to receive a call back. I’m thrilled with their customer service, yes I am.
Through trial and error over the last few days, I’ve discovered that the only way to avoid pain is to lie completely still. Unfortunately, this is not an option at work. Sitting for a prolonged period of time hurts, getting up and down to go to the printer and stuff hurts, and standing at my desk is damned inconvenient. Thanks to the Awesome Power Vicodin has over me, I’m about ready to burst into tears again, and wondering if they’ll just send me home, should I do that. I frickin’ hate the way vicodin makes me feel.
[/whining]
“See that you do”, she said snippily. If you’re good, I’ll give you a sticker.
Vicodin makes you cry? It makes me sleeeeeeeep.
Off to garden and clean this damned house. I HATE plaster dust. That is all.
Close. It’s by Peter Gabriel, who a long time ago was in Genesis before it became the Phil Collins Trio.
Really busy today. May not have much more time than this to pop my head in and say hello.
Vicodin in small doses makes me a chatterbox
It takes 2 ES Tabs to knock me out
Drae, wow! I sure hope the situation resolves itself and you start feeling better soon.
Vicodan makes me puke…for hours on end. I can’t take it.
Busy, busy, busy today. I’ll try to pop in later.
I must dash off to a meeting now.
Bolding mine.
TWO of course, you do realize, that you must regale us with the tale of your knife wounds. You cannot drop something like this without giving us all the details. Oh, and take your antibiotics until they are all gone.
Drae I second the uber-sucky! When you do finally get to talk to your doctor, I suggest jumping up and down while screaming, “Told ya so! Told ya so!” Unless that’d hurt. Then don’t do it. Except you can still scream “Told ya so! Told ya so!”
Bobbio great check up! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
And now the news from swampworld.
Here’s what I get to do next week. Monday, sit in a three hour meeting in a windowless, airless (I swear they sucked all the air out!) meeting room in this Og awful state office building in downtown Albeeny. Tuesday, go meet with exceptional services teachers (That’s Jawja speak for special ed.) in Alma, GA! Wednesday, go to the Periodontist and be tortured. Thursday, go to Vienna, GA and explain what a Work Plan is. If you don’t have to know, you don’t wanna know, believe me. BTW, don’t y’all think Vienna has a really spiffy website? Friday, do all the stuff I didn’t get to do in the office because I was running around all over the place all week.
Sinus update. They still hurt. 
Hi all. I’m home sick today. Nothing like you, Drae, you poor baby!
It’s just my meds messing with me. I ran fever yesterday and last night, and I’m very fatigued. I get dizzy when I stand up, and I didn’t sleep very well last night. So I called in sick.
So I’m sitting around in my jammies, reading the Dope and watching TV.
I like Vicodan. It makes me feel gooood.
:rushing to catch up:
Let’s see, I can’t give blood, even though I’d like to. They won’t take blood from diabetics, those chauvinists. (Who was that Chauvin guy anyway?)
Vicodan doesn’t do anything to me, unless I take enough to make me puke. Most pain-killers don’t do anything for me.
Morphine on the other hand…ummmmm…(They gave me morphine when I had my MI.)
Sorry about your ER experience Drae. Mine was much better, but I live in a small town where not too much happens.
Hope everybody who’s feeling poorly get better, stat.
You sure have a lot of sinus trouble Swampy, have you had a doctors opinion about that? I had a lot of similar troubles until someone with more than two active brain cells looked in there and discovered that I had polyps and put me on Beconase. (Actually they cut them out twice and they grew back, then they put me on Beconase.)
Way to go Bobbio! And Taters’ Mom!
Well, it’s offical. #1granddaughter is getting married June 24th. I wish them luck. They’re just babies! They’ve both led very sheltered lives up to now. sigh
I think that’s it.
Guess who I saw today!!!
G’wan guess. I’ll give you a hint: it was at lunch and she introduced me to her mom.
Nothing?
Ok, I’ll give you one last hint: I was sitting there minding my own bidness, when I hear a voice behind me yell “Hey, it’s Mr Bus Guy!!”
Now, you might think I’d turn expecting to see a Doper that knew me by sight, of which there are two of you that I know of, one being in Tucson, the other covered in plaster dust.
But no! It was Jami, she who first christened me MBG.
Jami was a junior at the start of last school year, when we totally screwed up her bus assignment. She lives on a rural road, and for reasons it’s too cumbersone to explain here, her routing was always done manually, instead of just pressing the magic “create route” button.
Anyway, the first couple days of the year I always spend afternoons at the high school helping kids find their buses. The little kids in the elementaries don’t need the help, they get PUT on the bus, and the junior high kids aren’t dumb enough to forget how they got to school yet.
So the first couple days last year, between the dispatcher and the driver, we had her all messed up. The third day, she came out of school, found me and said “Hey Mr Bus Guy, so what’s the deal today?” I led her right to her bus, introduced her to Sally, made sure she knew where Sally would be and never had another worry all year.
One day - in fact the day I finally paid my subscription and Doped up, I was walking through the halls at the HS and heard “Hey!!! Mr Bus Guy!!”, and turned to see Jami with some friends, waving at me.
Hence, I became Mr Bus Guy when I signed up here.
Today, after she yelled at me from across the room in Panera, she introduced me to her mother, and How YOU doin’, Jami’s mom??? Mom and I had talked on the phone a couple times, so we chatted a bit. That was nice. Pointless and mundane, but nice.
Now, back to work.
And TWO, we have to hear the knife wound story. I, myself only have a machete wound story, but it can wait…
Ooo! Ooo! I forgot! The hospital where Mr. Anachi went to have his heart attack is the same one where that woman went to have her baby and got flesh eating bacteria and lost her arms and legs. Luckily, Mr. Anachi still has all five limbs.
Cool story MBG. Now Jami’s mom and you have put faces with those voices the both of ya kept hearing over the phone. 
Bumba they want to break my nose but I won’t let 'em! I’m skeered! :eek: I also need to make an appointment for an eye exam. I am beginning to suspect that I may need to become a four-eyed bear.
ears perk up Chex Mix? I could go for some.
By the way, anyone in my area want to adopt a 25 year old college grad? I’m well trained, housebroken, and have a smidgen of manners.
There’s almost literally NO food left in my apartment. I subsisted almost completely off of jelly beans that my buddy bequeathed to me when he moved out. Those are now gone.
So…um…won’t you please give this grad a chance?
Only a few dollars a day would make such a great impact in his life.
sad puppy dog eyes
Senor Autobus Muchacho, what did she look like? Description needed to validate MILFiness.
can that fifth one truly be called a limb? :dubious:
swampy, they’ll put it back together after they break it - it’ll be good as new
I got a chance to scan the new posts in this thread before I have to dash off to my second PT session. Today I will have my referral - it’s in the van already.
I can’t give blood because I have wussy veins. In fact, I apparently have only one decent vein, in the side on my right arm, and it gets poked for blood tests. It takes me a coupla minutes to fill the teeny, tiny vials, so there’s no way I can get out a pint in a reasonable amount of time. I’m B+, which isn’t too rare, I believe, so I don’t sweat it. But if someone’s life was on the line, I’m sure someone could figure out how to get enough red stuff from me.
And now, off to therapy. I don’t wanna hurt any more. Stoopit shoulder.