In fucktards, me

Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted by: on Nov 23, 2007 | No Comments

Memorable:

  • Wednesday, half day, goodbye lunch for another employee which shifts ever more responsibility on to me. I will miss her though.

  • About 4:30 that afternoon, I’m sitting in the ER having a massive panic attack. (No, the above isn’t a trigger, that scene is played out like twice a week and if I’m at peace with anything, it’s that.) While freaking at the ER — feelings of going crazy, imminent death, profuse sweating, and BP so high I’m unable to articulate full sentences, I wait an hour or two as a colorful parade of street drunks go right through the VIP line, no waiting required. Cuz I “look” normal, nervous pacing and rapid short breathing aside. I keep muttering to Mason, “just 1mg of Ativan and I can turn the corner.”

  • Nurse finally calls. “Probably panic attack, just need a mg of Ativan,” I’m begging. BP machine doesn’t work; the 5th take finally gets a reading. Much to her surprise, it’s spectacularly high. As is my heart rate. Blood O2 low, too, from all the rapid shallow breathing. Hey, guess he’s not lying! I’m asked to pee in a cup and strip down and get into a gown. I’m ushered into a room.

  • Space limited. Room divided by curtain, crazed ramblings coming from the other side. I try to remain as quiet as a mouse. I’m offered a Turkey recipe from behind the curtain, which I don’t even acknowledge. But to her mind-altered credit, she was topical, even if delivered as “Hey, fuck hey there, you, oh my fucking god, I’ve got the best, [hack hack hack], best fucking Turkey recipe.” I kept quiet. She was snoring less than a minute later.

  • See Doc. Obviously knows his stuff. Two minutes later Ativan arrives. 2 more minutes and I’m starting to relax and my BP had dropped 40%.

  • Given Rx for Ativan. Met with Doc no more than 1 full minute. Discharged, Mason’s obviously terrified about my well being, by taking a nap. I think he’s snooring.

  • Since tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, force myself to go Turkey shopping, after a stop by the Walgreens pharmacy to stock up on Ativan.

  • So… Thanksgiving was nice. Relaxing. Cooking on Ativan, fun, if not especially efficient. That’s my little 12-pounder to the right. Delicious!

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!