Padawan is currently suffering some sort of Ebola Gangrene AIDS thing. Or it might just be food poisoning. Either way, he's pretty miserable, and I'm not much help to him since I'm pretty sure I'm dying, too. I've called my doctor like five times since Wednesday afternoon. Yesterday she suggested I take myself to the ER.
Did I do it?
I may be "hemorrhaging," (isn't that an ugly word?) but I'm not about to admit myself to the hospital. Are you kidding me? The first thing they do when you say you're hemorrhaging (this is my doctor's word, not mine) is hook you up to IVs and stick you with a million needles and them pump blood into you with yet another needle, and THAT needle is a fatter than average one.
Do I look like I'm about to voluntarily let some jerks in white coats stick me like a pin cushion? Um...no. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm so not into being tortured like that. Or in any way. You know, I'm really not very pain tolerant. Or brave. Hospitals scare me. And so do doctors.
So after arguing on the phone in the employee's kitchen for like ten minutes, I finally convinced my doctor that I would totally and carefully monitor my bleeding, and if it progressed or stayed at the same horrifying rate, I'd allow one of my coworkers to drive me to the ER. I conveniently forgot to mention the sudden exhaustion, the lightheaded sensation, and the fact that I was freezing cold. But she didn't need to know that, right? I mean, I'm always cold. *thinks* Well, I have no excuse for conveniently forgetting to mention the other parts, except that I thought if I told her that she'd probably insist that I call 911.
But guess what? I didn't die!
I did call Padawan and tell him what she said. And then, you know, I monitored my bleeding. And, thank God, it did eventually slow down. Not the way I wanted it to slow down because, you know, I was wanting it to just stop entirely, but it slowed down enough so that I knew I wasn't actually going to bleed to death. I'm still pretty sure I'm not going to bleed to death.
Unless this goes on for another month. Then I might actually have to admit myself.
But I'm going to the doctor before I let it get that far. I hate hospitals and doctors, but I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. I just don't want to be stuck with needles. That's completely reasonable, right?
It's better to just avoid the needles altogether. When I was seven and I had to get a shot it took my parents, three nurses, and a doctor to hold me down enough so that my doctor could stick me. And even then, it wasn't entirely effective because I managed to get a food loose after he pulled the shot away and I gave him a good kick to his balls that had him curled up on the floor for a few minutes. My parents apologized. I felt pleased with myself. He had hurt me, and I hurt him back. I come from a teaching of "anything goes in self defense." My sense of self preservation is astounding.
Not that I think needles are going to kill me. At least, not now at this moment when I'm sitting in my chair at work at my desk under no immediate threat from a needle. However, when that needle is coming at me, I somehow convince myself that it's going to kill me and that it's gross and disgusting and creepy and I don't want it near me and please just get away...and then I fight. Oddly, it's not that pain of the stab that bothers me. Honestly, on a scale of on to ten, shots are pretty low on the pain spectrum. It's the actual needle being in me that gets me.
Anyway, Padawan is too busy being sick and miserable to insist that I take care of myself, so as long as he's nauseous and refusing to go to a doctor, I'm safe from him insisting I go to the emergency room. I'm not pleased with Padawan's illness or anything, but I'm relieved that I've got some time. Last time I felt really bad and refused to go to the ER when I obviously needed to, Padawan simply picked me up and carried me screaming and kicking to the car and made me go. This time I can gauge for myself when the time is here to bring on the voodoo needle sticking doctors.
But I have hope. It seems to be progressively getting slower and slower since it's nuclear meltdown yesterday. I'm hoping two more days and I'm back to normal.
Or the geyser will start up again and I'll have to agree to admit myself to the ER and let those voodoo sadists stick me a million times unnecessarily. Ug. Jerks.