In Which I Go to the Emergency Room and Break My Finger

I'm pretty out there at the moment. As in "whoopee, where's the party, let's mix up some bath tub gin" out there. Vitameatvegamin high.

Went to work this morning and by 10:30, realized I would not be able to manage to make it through the day.

The pain management place didn't have any openings and honestly, I just didn't know what to do. There are times when pain makes you irrational, and in this case, it robbed me of the ability to figure out what to do next. So I called the insurance company. I spoke to a very nice lady who said, "If you can't get a doctor's appointment and you feel this bad, you should go to the emergency room." The nearest one? The Hospital of Death!

Still, I thought about it. Pain Mgmt dr. is affiliated with the Hospital of Death.

I told one of the admins I was leaving for the ER. "Do you know where it is? Because it's only five minutes from here."

I have never been able to figure out how to get to this place and I've lived here for 20 years.

"Let me take you."

"How will I get back?"

"Oh. Then let me lead you up there. I have to do something."

So I did and she was happy. It was during this trip that my gas gauge light went to "running on fumes". Great. I found a parking space in some dim, dark dungeon and made my way up to the emergency room. Went through triage. Expected to wait hours but no, it was a slow moment, so I was in a room being examined within half an hour. I liked this doctor. About my age, didn't think I was stupid, did little checks to see what was going on.

"Who's at home," he asked.

"My cats."

"Who drove you here?"

"I did."

"Hm. Normally I'd give you Ativan (yes! yes! Gimmee!) but instead, I'll give you Toredal (?) instead." So a nurse came in and gave me a whopping great shot in my butt. After it took effect, a very nice guy from Radiology swung me into a wheelchair to zip me over and took five x-rays. The doctor's verdict? I have sciatica. I also (huge surprise, really) have arthritis in my back. I mean, I know I get a little achy when I stand or sit a certain way but I never expected arthritis.

The whole idea this doctor had was to give me enough drugs to get me through the weekend. On Monday, I will see Pain Management Guy.

I got dressed, paid my bill, picked up the Rxs and the instructions.

I went back into the dim dungeon of the garage and I as I took one step forward, lost my balance and struggled mightily to keep from falling on my ouchy right side. And so I did.

I was stunned for a moment. And four people came running over to me. It took me a couple of moments for me to get myself back together. I did a quick inventory. Everything felt like it was where it should be.

Did I hit my head? Don't think so. Caught it on the left side of my face and my chin. (Ha. I took it on the chin.) I knew I had at least a case of road rash on both knees, felt a bonk on my left elbow. People helped me up. Did I want to go back to the hospital? No, no. I would just sit on the stairs and get my bearings.

One woman looked very concerned and gave me her card. "Call me. I'm just across the drive here and can be here in a minute." I thought that was very sweet of her. TIJ? The hell you say!

Eventually, I staggered on to my car. I made my way back to the highway, got $20 of gas in the car, stopped at Mickey D's for a very late lunch, and because my eyeglasses had gone skittering across the pavement when I fell, stopped at the eyeglass place.

Jo, the woman who works there, listened to my brief explanation as to how my glasses came to be in such a state. Then she looked at my hands. She pointed at my left pinky, which by now had become speckled with purple and sausage-like. "That," she said, "is broken. Can you bend it?"

I could not.

I put it flat on the counter and said, "It's never quite faced that direction, either."

"It's broken. You need to go back there."

I paused.

"You don't want to go, do you? You just want to go home and go to bed."

I confessed that was so.

If it's still all purple and non-bendy tomorrow, I might go back to the Hospital of Death tomorrow. But I'm afraid of what will happen if I do go and come out again.

In the meantime, what I wish for is this:

1. A pedi to refresh my gold toenails. And also to trim the nail, because I can't reach them without grunting and crying.

2. Someone to change the sheets on my bed.

3. Someone to put my socks on me. I've had cold feet for two months now and that's enough.

And this is enough. Dirty sheets, cold feet, broken finger, whatever, I am going to bed.