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The swelling in my face has gone down courtesy of some amoxicillin. Yay!
I survived Thanksgiving with the family, and even got a nap in. Double Yay!!
Tomorrow I’m going to see Polar Express on Imax (and in 3-D!) Triple YAY!!!
Something with more substance tomorrow, I promise.
Or… How I spent my afternoon yesterday.
12 guests at my Mom’s house for dinner. By 3pm seven of them were out cold. Myself included. Here’s hoping your Thanksgiving was just as relaxing.
When things aren’t going as well as you’d hope, it’s easy to fall into woe-is-me mode.
It’s been a pretty nasty year for me, and at times I’ve allowed myself to focus on that, almost to the exclusion of everything else. That’s a bad place to be.
After a long talk with a good friend, I’ve been gently reminded that I have SO much to be thankful for.
I’m grateful for the chance to raise two of the most gracious, loving, talented, beautiful little people in the entire world. You are my greatest joy, you bring out the very best in me, and I couldn’t be a prouder Mommy.
To my Mother, one of the strongest people I know. I’m grateful for every single time she has butted into my adult life. Because for the most part, she was right. I could learn so much from you if I’d just stop being such a “Stubborn Ass”.
I’m grateful for my baby brother. He might be younger by five years, but I don’t know where I’d be without him, especially over the last eight months or so. My children couldn’t ask for a better Uncle and I couldn’t ask for a better Best Friend.
That pretty much wraps up the non-bloggers. I live a pretty solitary life.
I’m so grateful for the opportunity to peak into your lives. I’m grateful for the chance to get to know some of you and call you friends. I’m grateful for the support you’ve given, without expectations. Thank you for sharing so much of yourselves. Your feelings, your talents, your knowledge, and your humor. You really have become a family to me, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
What are your nicknames? Er… Epi? In a former life there were quite a few people who called me Buffy. That’s a post on its own.
What TV gameshow or reality show would you like to be on? I would love to do Amazing Race. The opportunity to travel the world… I don’t think I could pass it up.
What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD? On VHS I believe it was Dirty Dancing… On DVD it was the first Austin Powers movie.
What is your favorite scent? This time of year it would have to be freshly cut Christmas Trees.
If you had one million dollars to spend only on yourself, what would you spend it on? Medic School, shoes, RN school, more shoes, a house with a huge yard, and a tree with the mother of all treehouses (for myself, of course… yeah… it’s for me, really…), more shoes, and my own little arsenal.
What is one place you’ve visited, can’t forget and want to go back to? It’s not so much a physical place, it’s more a feeling. Feeling loved, completely. Feeling protected and safe. Feeling complete. I’ll get back to that feeling soon… Just not soon enough.
Do you trust easily? Not so much lately, but I’m working on it.
Do you generally think before you act, or act before you think? When I’m working I think before I act. At other times, unfortunately… I often do the opposite. It gets me in trouble from time to time.
Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days? Being sicker than a dog has not made me all sweetness and light… Thank God for good abx.
Do you have a good body image? It’s getting there :) I’m a constant work in progress.
What is your favorite fruit? Golden Delicious apples, right off the tree. They’re like a desert.
What websites do you visit daily? Fark, Toledo Blade, and about 40 blogs.
What have you been seriously addicted to lately? Diet Pepsi and The Biggest Loser
What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
What is your favorite thing to wear? Depends on what I’m doing… I have a couple of pairs of scrub bottoms that I love to sleep in. When I’m just hanging out I’m a jeans and a sweatshirt kind of girl. I’m pretty laid back.
Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy? Love them with fresh strawberries.
What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground? If I was positive that it didn’t belong to someone standing around me, I’d pick it up and shove it in my pocket. If I saw someone drop it… I would absolutely give it back to them.
What items couldn’t you go without during the day? Hrmmm. My laptop, my flat iron (have to manage this unruly hair somehow!), glasses.
What should you be doing right now? Sleeping, probably. I slept horribly last night and I’ve been feeling it all day.
I was reading one of Michael Morse’s posts over at Rescuing Providence when something hit me…
I’m fantastic at communicating with my patients, their families, and my partners at work. For the most part my coworkers know exactly how I feel at any given time. I can extract the truth from my kids quicker than the most highly trained military operative. They know exactly how I feel about them.
But the others… My closest friends, my Brother and Parents, and those other loved ones… Those who know and love me the most, Christ, I’m a colossal ball of fail.
I’m learning that I don’t know how to talk to them. I can write about how I feel. I may not be the most eloquent person in the world, but I’m not afraid to type what I’m feeling. I just can’t say it, apparently. I can post about it, I just can’t say it. Or type it out in an IM oddly enough. This bothers me to no end.
As a matter of fact, when something is bothering me, or scaring me, or intimidating me, instead of talking about it… I run away and hide. Kind of like my three-year-old.
I need to work on that.
The side of me that wants to stay positive says that at least I’m getting it out of my head… The realistic side says that this is something that needs to be fixed post haste.
Unfortunately I have no idea how to do that.
So for those of you who feel slighted because I haven’t been around lately, I apologize. For those of you who have suffered the wrath of an IM from me at a particularly weak moment… I’m so unbelievably sorry. (I promise.)
All I can say is I’m working on it. I am.
I woke up this morning feeling a little off.
Well, a little more off than usual. Half of my face felt… full? When I attempted to rub the sleep from my eyes I realized that half of my face is quite swollen.
Ewwwww.
I’ve been fighting off a pretty nasty cold including the sinus infection from hell for going on three weeks now.
Wonderful. Now what. Already called my Doc, he has no openings until next Monday. There’s no way in hell I’m going to the ER, and I don’t really have the cash to go to an Urgent Care. I’m running a low fever and I have a runny nose (big shock there), but other than that I don’t feel too horrible. I’m just a little nervous about waiting until Monday.
Any advice?
Shamelessly stolen from MedicMatthew, who stole it from Xavier, who got it from God knows where.
Check this out… The Typealyzer. You just plug in the url to your blog and it spits out an interesting analysis.
Here’s mine.
Interesting.
(H/T to Michael Morse)
Just wanted to thank everyone for the suggestions and compliments…
I just added subscribe to comments, which was the one thing that had me at my wits end in this whole process. (There ya go, Braden… It can be done!) That and the fact that I’m made of fail when it comes to css and php. Two things that enable me to have the cool header.
Oh, and Kim… I bought the domain for nine bucks and the hosting I already had… That was the easy part. I didn’t do the coding for the header, I found that online, I just did the pictures and some minor tweaking in photoshop.
I still have some issues to work out… Clicking on the images at the top (in theory) should take you to a list of posts on those topics. They don’t work yet. Because I can’t figure out how to do it :)
I’m liking it so far. Thanks again for all the love folks.
Kick your feet up, seriously! There’s beer in the fridge.
I’ve got some work to do still, I can’t guarantee all of the links are working, and then there’s the matter of 500+ posts to move over from the original blog…
That could take a while.
In the meantime…
“FIVE YEARS IN A ROW?!?!?! SERIOUSLY?!?!?!”
Gets very interesting on Game Day.
Game Day. OSU vs. Michigan. A rivalry that inspires such passion in their fans that one is literally not safe driving a car into Columbus with a Michigan bumper sticker or license plate. It causes countless bar fights, sells a hell of a lot of merchandise for both teams, and can actually divide some families.
Well I guess it doesn’t divide every family…
It also causes a certain blogger to do insane things. Like build a bonfire and set her favorite sweatshirt ablaze after a particularly tough loss.
Living just two miles from the Ohio State/Michigan border means that one is just as likely to see an OSU flag flying outside a house as a Michigan flag.
It’s really a cool thing, driving around on Game Day. Everyone’s decked out in their colors, everyone’s talking about the game… From experience I can tell you that tonight the ER’s will be slammed… I won’t miss that.
I don’t know how the game is going to go today (for those of you die hard OSU fans, don’t get too cocky, stranger things have happened…), but I have hope.
Go Blue, Baby!
I should already know… because my employer issues us all these very nice pagers. I should be able to pull it out of my pocket, press a button, and be rewarded with some information (accurate or not is another question entirely) about the run.Like the location.
I should, but I can’t because I washed the damn thing again.
Pseudo Dad rolls his eyes at me for the fifth time tonight, “Over to the mall area, code 2 county run. You’re really going to have to stop washing your pagers.”
I nod and wrap my frozen fingers around a steaming hot cup of coffee. The snow has been steadily coming down for the majority of the day. Now that the sun has gone down the roads are a sheet of ice. For once I’m glad that Pseudo Dad is driving.
He parks the squad in the only available spot. Directly behind the firetruck in the middle of the narrow street. After marking us on location with dispatch and the county, Pseudo Dad steps out. I don’t.
“We’re you planning on coming?”
“Well, I was hoping I could just sit here and let you do all the work. It’s pretty cold out there. And the snow flakes will definitely ruin my hair.” I flashed him a toothy grin.
“You’re the flake. Let’s go.”
“You need to get more sleep, Dad. You’re no fun.” The truth was I was checking out our entrance. There were two sets of steps we were going to have to navigate. In the snow and ice. With a patient on the stretcher.
I hope our patient is light.
“Do you think the fact that we haven’t been met by TFD has anything to do with the fact that it’s 10 degrees outside and snowing?” I was looking at the four big guys standing just inside the front door of the house.
I bet their fingers aren’t numb.
“I think there’s a chance you could be correct there. ” Pseudo Dad laughed. “Maybe they saw your hair.”
“Maybe they saw your lack of it and felt sorry for your frozen melon? Ehhh?”
**********
The small living room was standing room only, and even that was at a premium. Four from TFD, the patient, and five members of the patients family. Everyone was talking at once. That combined with the large LCD tv blaring an episode of Cops and it was impossible to figure out what was going on.I pulled the first Medic I came across aside. “Hey, I’m Epi from Little Private Service… What’s going on?”
“She fell on the steps outside and twisted her ankle. They’re arguing over where to take her. She’s refusing an ice pack or a splint.” He looked more than a little frustrated with the situation.
“OHHHHHH LAWDY! My whole leg is hurtin’… Owwwwww Lawdy Lawdy!” Enter our patient. 315 pounds of quivering drama.
I stepped forward while Pseudo Dad dropped the stretcher to the floor. “Hello Ma’am, I’m Epi with Little Private Service. Can you tell me what’s going on tonight?”
“I was heading out to take my Grandbabies to McDonalds for dinner… Oh Lawdy it hurts…” She was holding a stuffed animal, which for God knows why struck me as odd. It was a Winnie the Pooh for those truly interested.
“Which leg is it?” I had to ask because I could see both ankles, and they were both edematous. I couldn’t see any discoloration… Everything looked normal. The truth was I had no idea which limb was supposed to be injured.
“It’s the left one… Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy…”
I checked her PMS, which was all normal. Being someone who’s broken her left ankle twice and twisted it more times than she can count, I can sympathize… Of course I’ve never called for an ambulance for it, but then again I don’t weigh what she does.
“Okay, well we’ll certainly take you to the ER if that’s what you want… Is there a reason you don’t want at least an ice pack on it?”
“Oh Jesus it hurts too much for ice… I need some percocets or something… Oh JESUS it hurts…” She was fanning herself with a church bulletin.
Perfect. She wants Percocet. Fantastic.
**********
We managed to convince her to go to the closest hospital, a five minute transport. Her family argued that this was unacceptable as her doctor was at Inner City ER. What they didn’t realize was that Physicians at Inner City ER also practice at The Closet ER. One of the benefits of belonging to that particular health system.Our patient, for the record, didn’t care where she went. She just wanted pain relief. Relief we weren’t going to be able to provide her with, but at least she only had a five minute bumpy ambulance ride ahead of her. Inner city ER was at least three times that.
With our patient packaged on the stretcher we made our way outside. I took the foot end of the cot, as customary when working with Pseudo Dad. We had an extra Firefighter to help me. Pseudo Dad claimed he didn’t need any help.
The first set of steps (four in total) went fine. 315 pounds wasn’t even enough to justify a bari cot.
The second set of steps however…
I don’t know if it was my frozen fingers on a metal cot, or ice under my boots, or the EMS Gods hitting that smite button, but I lost my footing and in an attempt to right myself, managed to land directly on my ass.
*A collective gasp is heard from the tiny bunch of Firefighters braving the snow*
I jump to my feet instantly and rejoin the firefighter, grateful that my Pseudo Dad didn’t lose his grip. “I’m fine… sorry about that…” I stammer. My face is a furious shade of crimson.
Jesus, how could I let that happen? Seriously, Epi… You could have dropped your patient…
Thank God I had that Toledo Firefighter there lifting with me, or God only knows what would have happened.
While we were loading the patient into the back of the truck I heard a whistle and a comment about “pink”. I didn’t think much of it at that point.
The ride to the ER/ED/EC was uneventful. Although I did manage to convince her to allow me to ice her ankle. A tiny victory for me.
**********
I was sitting in the EMS room completing my report when Pseudo Dad appeared. He was in the process of grabbing a Diet Pepsi from the fridge when he paused. “Ohhhhhhhh….. Hahahahahhahahahahaha *pause to breathe* HAHAHAHAHAH” He was doubled over, he was laughing so hard.I found myself completely confused. And a little annoyed. “WHAT? What’s so effing funny?”
He wiped tears from his eyes, “I hope you packed an extra pair of pants… Because the ones you have on have seen better days.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Yes, I’m truly that clueless. Clearly that’s what makes me the source of entertainment for my partners.
“I’m surprised you didn’t notice the draft…” He set the can down and wiped his eyes with a tissue.
**********
Yep. I ripped a pair of pants.
I destroyed them, in fact. And no, I didn’t have an extra pair with me. And wouldn’t you know it, Dispatch had two runs waiting for us. No time to run home (25 minute drive) to change.
The solution… Backboard tape.
I did two more runs that night with an eight inch long strip of backboard tape over my backside.
The moral of the story is… Make sure you pack an extra pair of pants. Or watch where you step.
Grace, thy name is Epi.
I went to court. And emerged still owning everything I went in with. Yay for proper documentation.
I convinced my Son that his handwriting really was a little subpar on his homework assignment.
I did a photo shoot and didn’t second guess myself.
My daughter actually took a nap. No small fete there.
I got to sleep in.
I passed a test that I never dreamed I’d pass. (Thanks, JB, AD, and MM!)
Why do I still feel like I’ve lost my best friend?
Be safe out there.
Oh…My God.
They’re doing a fecal transplant on Grey’s to treat C Diff.
That’s both righteous and icky.
I’m going to try to forget about the fact that Izzie is apparently suffering from a brain tumor and is having sex with Dead Denny (STILL HAWT) and the first year idiots are performing surgery on each other.
This past Sunday I was invited to attend a party for the volunteers and their families.
I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go to be honest… I’ve been in a nasty funk lately that I’ve been trying to shake. The chance to meet up with some of the amazing people I volunteered with was too much of a draw.
Wow. Do they ever know how to put on a party.
Twin spotlights greeted us at the front door. The kids instantly lost their minds.
Then they saw the balloons. FC wasn’t as excited as the little one was, but he was itching for one of those Bob The Builder construction hats.
There were blue shirts… Everywhere. I wore mine as well, over my underarmor… Hey, it was cold out. Really really cold.
The room was quickly filling up… All to see the Frisch family. Their kids were everywhere (well, there’s a ton of them…), they were very gracious. I caught a glimpse of Aaron walking Jackie through the crowd. He had her arm the entire time. It made me smile to see that kind of love between a married couple.
We didn’t stay for the show itself (it was getting a little late for the kids)…
She Who Rules refused to be photographed after having a very Diva moment. FC on the other hand was willing to allow me to snap one of him. He was bored out of his mind, but he kept quiet about it in exchange for popcorn and his gameboy.
In the end, a very tired and cranky Mom dragged her equally tired and cranky (and in FC’s case, bored) children back to the car.
I did manage to reconnect with some friends, and that was nice. And it did make me feel good to see the recognition given to those who really built that house. I didn’t swing a hammer or paint a wall, but there were hundreds who did. It was nice to see them get some attention.
Bravo to the organizers, ya’ll did good.
Yeah. He didn’t cut the cord. Not the end of the world.
At least my little guy was okay. That’s all that truly mattered. He was perfect. And gorgeous. Born with a full head of hair. Just like his Momma.
My BP was back to it’s norm (110/80-ish), so I was free to sleep on my back or right side. I made my way through preeclampsia with nary a lasting scratch.
That being said, the following ten plus days were hell. I had a horrible sinus infection, and getting adjusted to your first born’s sleep schedule does not contribute to a sane or happy Mom. Particularly when she’s sick on top of it.
And then the car fell on him.
Mr. Epi. Not the Baby. Obviously.
I was sitting at the table in the kitchen crying into my hands out of sheer exhaustion when I heard Mr. Epi stomping up the back stairs. “EPIIIIIII….EPI Uhm….. I need you.”
I looked up as he entered the back door. He was covered in blood. He looked like an extra out of a horror movie.
I sat there, slackjawed. For half a second or so. Then I flipped out.
“OhmyGodohmygodohmygodOHMYGOD… What the hell happened to you? I grabbed him and dragged him towards the sink. There was blood everywhere.
“The car fell… Jackstand…Oh Jesus…” Remember me telling you that he wasn’t a fan of blood? He really isn’t. He felt ill. I grabbed a kitchen towel from the drawer and put it to his head, walked him to the couch in the living room and forced him to lay down.
FC was sleeping in the swing, blissfully unaware of the chaos.
“You need to go to the hospital. Should I call 911?” I wasn’t an EMT yet, I didn’t know what the hell to do. With the knowledge I have now he would have gone by EMS. Back then I didn’t know what the hell to do.
There is just so much blood.
Mr. Epi decided to stop blowing blood everywhere and speak up. “You are not calling 911. Call your Aunt.”
“Well I can drive you…”
“No, you can’t. Your car has no oil in it, and it’s blocking my truck in.” Blood was soaking through the towel on his head.
I called my Aunt, who came to pick us all up. She kept Baby FC, and I drove Mr. Epi to the ER.
He ended up with several stitches, but no skull fracture, thank God.
**********
Spring changed into Summer…
Summer changed back into Winter…
Oh?
…and Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight on into Autumn.
And that is my last Holy Grail quote. I promise.
**********
The fact was I was fooling myself. Just two years into our marriage and we were basically roommates. Roommates who slept in the same bed. Roommates who got along fantastically. We never fought. We just lived our lives, did sweet things for each other on occasion, and raised our precious Son. Well, I raised him. Mr. Epi was quickly losing interest in him.
I didn’t get it. How do you lose interest in your SON?
I was changing the diapers. I was waking up with him. I was playing with him all day. I was feeding him, and kissing his ouchies. That’s what a Parent does, right?
Apparently Mr. Epi had issues of his own. Issues I didn’t completely understand yet. (Issues I’m not planning on divulging, for the record.)
Has decided to start a blog of his own.
It’s completely unlike mine. And that’s okay. He’s not me.
It’s not an EMS Blog. It’s not a photography blog. It’s not a blog on kids…
I’m not ready to pimp it yet… Mostly because it might scare a few of my readers… Hell, knowing him it’s probably going to scare me at times…
He’s blatantly honest. He might be crass at times. But he knows what he speaks of. Trust me.
And as much as EVERY FIBER OF MY VERY BEING says “Don’t do it, Epi…” I can’t help it. I can guarantee that for those who can handle it… It’s going to be a great read.
Coming soon… Knowing him it’ll be very soon.
Just because Medic Three has said I’m not allowed to do anything until I post again.
Sheesh.
In the meantime, here’s a pic of my little girl.
Again, my cup runneth over Baby Girl.
Stolen from Why Are You Stalking Me, who stole it from Sunday Stealing (Gasp! A blog dedicated to stealing meme’s? LOVE IT.) I couldn’t agree with her more. I love meme’s for the distractions…
The Woman’s Work 45 Meme
1. Do you like blue cheese salad dressing? I do, actually.
2. Favorite late night snack? I don’t usually snack at night, but I do sneak some trail mix on occasion.
3. Do you own a gun? Rumor has it Santa’s bring me one :)
4. What’s your favorite drink at Starbucks or other specialty coffee shop? I’m a boring girl. I like the straight up coffee. Cream and sugar.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Doctor appointments? Gawd No. The Dentist is another thing altogether.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Hebrew National Hot Dogs rock my little world. With Packo’s sauce.
7. Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee please?
9. Can you do push-ups? I can do a couple.
10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? I have a necklace with a pendant that has three diamonds in it. It was a gift from Mr. Epi a few years ago for Valentine’s Day.
11. Favorite hobby? Photography, blogging and scrapbooking.
12. Do you have A.D.D.? Probably. I was talking to a Doc about it a few months — That dog has a puffy tail!
13. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? Indecision. No, my lack of self confidence… No, indecision. Hell, I don’t know.
14. The last disease you contracted? Caught the creeping crud from my kids over two weeks ago. I’m still suffering from it.
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. I hate Ohio Lottery commercials. JT from Y&R is a very cute boy. Owwww.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Diet Pepsi, ice water, coffee.
17. Current worry right now? Too many to name one.
18. Current hate right now? I’m freezing. I hate cold weather.
19. Favorite place to be? Wherever my babies are. Unless they’re screaming at each other. In that case, a deserted island down near the bahamas.
20. How did you ring in the New Year? Party at my Brother’s house.
21. Like to travel? Love it.
22. Name three people who will complete Sunday Stealing this week: Hrm. Bernice… Ambulance Mommy perhaps? I dont know… If you want to play, play :)
23. Do you own slippers? Yes, and I even know the location of one of them. The other is hanging out with the missing socks.
24. What color shirt are you wearing? Grey.
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I’m more of a fan of flannel this time of year.
26. Can you whistle? Yes.
27. Favorite singer/band? I don’t have a favorite… Hannah Montana? (I’m kidding, btw.)
28. Could you ever make it 39 days on the show Survivor? I’m a Girl Scout… Of course I could.
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? I’ve had that Coldplay song in my head today… Viva la Vida.
30. Favorite girl’s names? Abby, Grace, Erin — *shrug* I dont know. Quit making me think.
31. Favorite boy’s name? Seriously, more thinking? Henry, Nicholas, Noah.
32. What’s in your pocket right now? I’m wearing scrub bottoms that don’t have pockets. :)
33. Last thing that made you laugh? My daughter. “Aww Mommy, We’ll call the ammalance!”
34. Like your job? HAHAHAHAHAH.
36. Do you love where you live? It has it’s days. I’d much rather be south of here… Or out west.
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? Three.
38. Who is your loudest friend? Sue. Hands down.
39. Do you drive the speed limit or speed? Depends on the circumstances. I do believe I broke the land speed record driving up US 23 last year.
40. Does someone have a crush on you? Not that I know of.
41. What is your favorite book? I’m very up close and personal with my EKG book right now.
42. What is your favorite candy? Can’t really have the candy anymore… But a piece of a kit kat may pass my lips on occasion.
43. Favorite Sports Team? The Packers and the Jets.
44. What were you doing 12 AM last night? Fixin’ to crash.
45. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up today? God I’m old.
So… once again, I’m not tagging anyone specifically, but if you do play let me know so I can see your answers…
This was in my inbox tonight:
Hello Pal,
I hope my email meet you well. I am in need of your assistance. My name is Sgt. Jarvis Reeves. I am an American soldier serving in the 1st Armored Division in Iraq, we have just been posted out of Iraq and to return in a short while. My colleague and I need your help to transfer out the sum of Twenty Five Mllion United State Dollars ($25 MUSD). If you are interesting I will finish you with more details.
As awair your response.
Email:sgt-jr@hotmail.com
Yours,
Sgt. Jarvis Reeves
God Bless America!!
An American Soldier? You’re going to impersonate an American SOLDIER? Rot in hell. Seriously.
Here’s what pissed me off today. Well, technically the last two days.
If you have sensitive ears, you might want to skip this post.
Almost getting run off the fucking expressway by a former Lieutenant driving with their lights and siren OFF. You psychotic BITCH. Had I known who was working dispatch at the time I would have called them immediately.
Standing behind a woman in line at the carryout using her Foodstamp card to buy junkfood (and buying a carton of cigarettes with cash). I barely had enough money in my pocket for a half gallon of milk. I don’t get food stamps or government assistance of any kind. I don’t even have health insurance. (You know, what you consider Medicaid to be.) I noticed that you drive a Honda Accord with spinners. Screw you bitch.
The Mother in the waiting room at the Dentist’s office who dared to “Shush” my son. He wasn’t loud, but he was crying. He has a reaction to versed that makes him a little emotional. You’re lucky that I was focused on him or I would have stomped a bootprint in your face.
(To McHottie, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry that I missed dinner. I swear that it couldn’t be avoided. See the statement about my little boy.)
To the friend who dared to ask me “What the HELL is wrong with you lately? Why are you such a recluse?” and then suffered the wrath of Epi, my deepest apologies. I know you’re worried. And I’m sorry. I promise that I’ll be back to normal soon. I promise.
To the asshole two people in front of me who held up the the Rite Aid (it should make the news if you’re in the Toledo area), congratulations. You win the “Miserable Bastard of the Day” award. Enjoy the three converter boxes and 200 bucks you scored. I hope you manage to buy a bad batch of meth with it.
And then there’s me. I’ve been letting my emotions run my life for entirely too long. It’s time to use my head.
(Added a pic to the end…-Epi)
My BP was so high. That on it’s own isn’t necessarily an emergency…
Except I was very pregnant, and sick. This combination was enough to freak out my PCP and was quickly making me just as nervous.
I did what I promised my Doctor I’d do. I drove directly to the local hospital where my OB doc was going to induce me. I might have paused first to call Mr. Epi, who I couldn’t get a hold of, and my Mom.
“Mom, Dr. Leslie is saying that I need to go to the hospital. My Blood pressure’s up and that’s bad stuff for the little one…. Can you come up there?” I did my best to not allow the terror I was feeling to come out over the phone. It was difficult, I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
It didn’t take her long to catch on. The woman with the fiercest work ethic I have ever come across promised me that she would leave work immediately and meet me at the local hospital.
When I arrived in the ER/EC/ED my mother wasn’t there yet. It was minutes before I was relocated to the the Labor and Delivery floor. The ER couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. And that was okay with me.
I was quickly settled into my room, the same room I’d labor, deliver and recover in. It was beautiful, not at all like the sterile white hospital rooms I’ve stayed in in the past. This room had wood floors, Monet prints and warm colors.
And a fold out couch, mini fridge, cd player and very comfortable rocking chair that I never got to sit in.
I was too scared to enjoy any of it.
I was alone, and in typical fashion I had a million thoughts running through my head.
Is Baby FC going to be okay? Am I going to end up having seizures? What do seizures feel like? Where is my husband? What if he doesn’t make it here in time. Will the baby really be okay? I want my Mom. Where in the HELL is my HUSBAND??? God, I hope he wasn’t in a car accident… Jesus, what if he was in an accident and he’s out there hurt and…
“Epi? You doing okay there honey?”
I jumped out of my skin. “EEEEEK! Where did you come from?” The nurse had succeeded in simultaneously interrupting my mini mental rant and scaring the crap out of me.
“I’m so sorry I startled you, I need to start an IV and draw some blood.” She set her supplies down on the table next to me and took my hand. “Your Mother and Husband will be here soon, Epi. You just hang in there.”
Four attempts later (Uhm, OW?) I had the securest IV EVER. It wasn’t her fault, I have those spindly rolling veins. They look good until you try to stick me. Made me a human pincusion in Medic School, believe me. Oh yeah. Good times.
Sorry, I’m babbling.
So the IV was patent and the magnesium drip was started. If you haven’t had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of magnesium that’s probably for the best. Trust me on this one.
My Mom arrived a bit later. She sat at the side of my bed holding my hand while I tried to sleep. I was scared for my baby, sweating like a hooker in church, feeling horrible, and I was getting this headache…
Preeclampsia’s a bitch folks.
Shortly after six pm Mr. Epi arrived, breathless and sweaty and smelling like someone who should really be taking a shower and going to bed after an extremely long day at work. He didn’t understand what was happening, he was scared, and tired, and irritable.
I needed him there. I didn’t want to spend the night in that hospital with the possibility of delivering… alone. I had no idea when they were planning on starting the pitocin, and I had already sent my Mom home for the night…
Rather than spending the night snapping back and forth (and having to smell his funky butt), I sent him home. He didn’t protest. I remember wishing that he would have. He was exhausted and really needed to get some sleep. And so did I. It was for the best. And I could call him if I really needed him of course.
What I can only describe as the worst headache anyone has EVER had set in about an hour later. Just about the same time that a 14-year-old girl was pushing her baby out with no epidural right across the hall. Naturally.
“SOOOOMEONE KILLLL MEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOD IT HUUUUURRRRTTTTSSSSS!!!!” She was screaming bloody murder.
I felt bad for her, really. But this headache… It was blindingly painful. When I was in High School I was treated for migraines. I have to say this was worse than a migraine. I remember wanting to duct tape her mouth.
Six hours later I still had it. I was laying in bed on my left side in tears when the nurse came in to check on me.
“How are you holding up there, Epi? Ohhhh Honey, what’s wrong… are you okay?” She was a Saint, my nurse that night.
*Sob* “My head…” *Sob* “It’s excruciating….” *SOB* “I can’t see straight it hurts so badly…” *long whimpering* I was a hot mess at that point. Literally. The mag made my body feel like it was on fire.
That nurse (I do remember her name, even close to nine years later. Kelly, wherever you are, you’re a SAINT!) did something that to this day ranks as one of the three sweetest things another person has ever done for me.
She gave me a head rub. Kelly rubbed my head for almost an hour.
Had I not already had a name picked out for my son, he would have been named Kelly.
“I survived. Barely,” I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
“I brought your body pillow.” He produced the four foot long pillow.
“Oh God, thank you. The Nurse said they’re going to up the pitocin at eight. Looks like it’s going to be a long day.” I propped myself up in the bed and pulled my tray towards me. Breakfast would consist of ice chips. Yay.
I looked longingly at Mr. Epi’s orange juice. McDonalds. I hated him instantly. How dare he enter my room with orange juice.
Two hours later and I still wasn’t having contractions. They decided to increase my Pitocin yet again in order to kick start some serious contractions.
That’s when the real fun started. The pitocin kicked in, and just about as quickly I found myself in a world of pain.
Pitocin, like Preeclampsia, is a bitch.
Within an hour the contractions started. I did okay initially. I actually watched Martha Stewart and The Rock from WWE bake Valentines Day cookies for his wife. It was a nice distraction. About the time that they started to get a little painful, Mr. Epi’s pager went off.
Perfect effing timing.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS? You’re STILL on call?” I was chewing on ice chips, sweating, and mad as hell at everyone.
“I couldn’t get anyone to cover… It’s okay, I’ll be back in an hour.” He was running for the door.
“I HOPE I DON’T DELIVER YOUR SON BEFORE THEN!!!!” I was yelling after him. I was pissed. Highly.
Three attempts at an epidural with no success.
Nubain given, resulting in me puking green jello for a good two minutes.
Basically, a lot of bitching and whining on my part. But hey, when you’re in labor you’re allowed to do that, right?
RIGHT????
Okay, I’m sorry.
At about 4:56pm on February 10th, 2000 , I delivered FC. 7lbs. 8oz. 21 inches long. My life would be forever changed.
Mr. Epi was asked if he would like to cut the cord. He had to sit down to think about it. My OB cut the cord while Mr. Epi was fanned by my Mom. He’s never been a fan of blood.
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