Monday, April 10, 2006
12:54 p.m.

Dude. I thought last week sucked my ass? Damn I was naive. Today sucked even worse! I went to the doctor this morning for Walter, the swell on my side that has persisted for over a month. Walter has been getting worse and he doesn’t want to go away. Walter wants to be with me forever. So my doctor looked alarmed, which alarmed me. He poked at Walter which made him angry (Walter, not the doctor). And when he is angry he hurts me. Then, he used a “tiny” needle to drain some of the fluid from Walter. Yes, there was fluid. How attractive huh? My future husband is a lucky, lucky man, I’ll tell you what. I asked the doctor “will this hurt?” and he paused for awhile. I said, “Let me guess, I may feel some slight discomfort.” And he confirmed. You see, that is what doctors say when they are about to do something so ungodly painful that you will promise your unborn children’s souls to the eternal fires of hell to escape. So Walter had an absolute tantrum at this whole ordeal, and THEN, Doctor said, “that seemed to help. I’m going to get a slightly bigger needle and see what else we can do.” I don’t think I need to tell you how that went. The doctor is going to have the fluid analyzed and then he prescribed antibiotics and referred me to a CAT scan. So I went down to the hospital where I spent so much of my time last year (conveniently connected to his office) and had to register, etc. Of course I don’t have insurance yet so the adorable Russian case worker had to battle with the County for about 30 minutes to get the procedure authorized. He made me sign an agreement for the scan and put a bracelet on my wrist. Before I signed I said, “WAIT. I’m only here for the scan, right? Then I go home, right?” He didn’t seem to understand right away why I was adamant. “The last time I had a bracelet and signed papers, I was here for 2 MONTHS.” I added. So he confirmed that they weren’t admitting me, and we went about the business. Finally the paperwork was resolved with County, and I moved to the next waiting room. I was there about 10-20 minutes. The drone of monotonous network TV (The View or some such nonsense), the hospital smell, and the constant voices over the intercom all contributed to a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. I started panicking because it all came back to me. The pattern of the carpet, the beds and equipment of the patients rolling by, “Paging Dr. Nishio, please report to…” And I REMEMBER Dr. Nishio! He was one of my pulminary doctors, how scary is that? One of the nurses brought me about a gallon of contrast fluid to drink, so they could see my insides for the scan. And THEN I would have to wait another hour to ensure that the fluid had progressed through my system. This did nothing for my anxiety. I choked down the liquid until I felt sick and challenged the necessity to drink the rest. The nurse agreed and I was off the hook. So the countdown started. I was so tempted to just bolt and fuck off the whole thing. Once you’ve been hospitalized, you’re never the same. I’m not, at least. I can never visit a hospital and not freak out. It’s just too much. Especially the same hospital. So I text messaged people and talked to Stacy (thank you Stacy, I love you!) to pass the time and try to remain calm. It helped a little, but I was a wreck! Finally it was almost time. An IV technician came over because apparently the fluid wasn’t enough, I had to have an IV as well. That wasn’t traumatic or anything. I almost passed out when I smelled the saline or whatever they use. And the idea of an IV weakens me completely. Veins and needles gross me out. The whole experience last year exacerbated that, as you can imagine. Eventually I did the scan, which took like 5 minutes. All this preparation, mental upheaval, and basically ado, for 5 minutes of scan! Unbelievable. But the best came later. I got the IV out, etc, and went to get my prescription filled. Well not only will they make me feel shitty (they are already) and limit my dietary choices, but they cost $177! WHAT THE FUCK? Something called Levaquin. The pharmacist seemed to take a lot of pleasure in saying: “You have to take this for 14 days, and if your doctor prescribed such a strong antibiotic, you probably have a pretty gnarly infection. Don’t eat any dairy or antacids for 4 hours before or after taking. Oh, and it may cause some diarrhea.” Once again, my husband will be a damn lucky man. Damn lucky. So this was Monday for me. I am terrified to discover what perils the rest of the week will bring. Thank you Walter! I love you too asshole.