Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Seize or Not To Seize?! Each Carries Consequences I Do Not Feel Like Experiencing. I would Like To Buy A Shirt Stating This Statement. Why Hello! A Recap if you please: told that I was to die, I prepared to do just that, but irony had different plans for me and I had a seizure that prevented it all, so I seized, took the day as it went, and held Stan's hand which was so soft that I wish I knew what moisturizer he used. 2/ Wednesday/Thursday. After 8 hours of holding my hand and sitting next to a jar of my neon yellow pee (take some vitamin-B and you'll excrete glowing pee), Stan was told that I will be admitted for couple days, so he held me, fed me a cheeseburger, and hugged and hugged and left. I was alive so nothing mattered anymore. I was curled up and was considering what a shitty situation I was in. Because see, last week I was told I will die, and today I was told that it would've happened but not from what everybody thought. Because see, my blood was the cleanest of them all� the cleanest. To everybody's surprise my daily cheeseburger binge had no effect on my cholesterol (it was rather on the lower side too, say what?!?!?). Ironically, cheeseburgers were not killing me� electrolytes were. My blood indicated an almost non-existence of magnesium and low supply of potassium and sodium� and that was killing me (know how those marathon runners who drop from electrolyte depletion?! Same idea, except imagine me not as a marathon runner but as a chemist). The magnesium, damn you magnesium, oh magnesium, stupid Mg2+�. That caused my headaches, that caused my ear ringing, that caused my general irritability, that caused my seizure, which started a roller coaster of trouble. I had my own room with cable and internet and male nurses. The nurse wore CK underwear and showed it to me. He showed me his tats. He asked about my bowel movements. Yea, cheeseburgers make me regular. He was sensitive to the fact that my IV was irritating my veins, so he punctured some other veins to give me more IV. Magnesium. He wouldn't let me sleep. He woke me up every time I fell asleep. Something about my brain injury. Something about temperature checking. Something about giving me more magnesium drips. Them and their will to keep patients alive� sickening! He asked if I finally peed. Please, I want to sleep. Let me sleep. He bent down, and I saw more of his underwear. I smiled. Stan wears the same type. I slept well for the next five minutes until my eyes opened to him keeping me alive... The cook asked for my order; I asked if he was serious, but he was, this hospital spoiled me with a personal cook. I had an omelet for breakfast, and a cheeseburger for lunch. I am an American now, my cholesterol needs to un-European itself and get within the American norm. Son of a bitch. I fought with the doctors to release me earlier. This neurologist, some hot shit in state of NY, asked me that since this is a teaching university, if I will allow some of his residents to witness our chat. Given this choice I realized I had none and agreed only to realize that by "residents" he meant twenty. They watched me, I enjoyed it, but I really did not like talking about bowel movements and unrelated movements to why my head hurt. This one, one resident in particular, he was touchy, and I liked it but I didn't touch base with him so I don't have the proper info to facebook-stalk him. He put his hand on my shoulder, smiled: "Hey, smile, you will live." Is that really so great though? They wanted to keep me until Monday but I have a power of convincing which I call cleavage, and this time I didn't use it but I had Stan pick me up. 3/ FRIDAY. I cried. 4/ WEEKEND. I cried. I didn't know it then, but I had all the reasons in the world to cry. Consider it a practice run. BUT WAIT! I lied! I promised to answer questions including but not limiting to: how did Stan manage to remove all of my clothes (or did it actually happen?!), my first e-book on my phone (Metropolis), will I be using my new bathing suit (after I exchange it maybe), or will I actually get to work with the NAVY?! Are Stan and I expecting?! (his expectations are different than mine). That shall happen tomorrow. 1:12 a.m. - April 15, 2010 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||