“Paging Dr. Greene”

This weekend we had a pair of friends at the house to watch the Super Bowl. They left a little bit after the game ended and the hubby disappeared upstairs soon after. I stayed in the living room to get some work done, but a half hour or so later, I started to wonder why the hubby had not returned. Maybe he is watching something else upstairs and I didn’t hear him tell me. Maybe it’s only been a couple of minutes and not 30.

I continue working on emails and whatnot. And then I wonder why the hubby still isn’t back, so I go upstairs fully expecting to see him asleep in the bed. Not so. I hear the TV on in the other room, but he is not there. I look in our room, but he is not there either. He must be in the bathroom.

“Are you OK?” I ask. “No,” says a weak little voice. “What can I get you?” “Nothing. I don’t feel good.”

I let him have his time and then I return upstairs. He’s on the bed now, backwards. “Are you OK?” I ask. “No, I feel terrible,” he says. “Do you want me to get you something to drink?” “Yeah. I’ve thrown up and I’m feeling dehydrated.” I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not anything he drank. We’re not ones to drink and if we do, it’s not to excess. I bring him a bottle of Gatorade and a bell. “Ring the bell if you want me to get you something. I need to do some stuff downstairs, but I’ll check on you.”

I check on him periodically but he’s usually in the bathroom. “Do you need anything?” I ask. “Yeah, can you hold my hair?” OK, that must mean he is feeling a little better. He’s telling jokes. I go back downstairs. After a while, it’s getting late, I’ve seen this episode of Iron Chef America, and it’s time for bed. I get ready to let the dog out when I hear a faint ringing of the bell. Uh oh. I run upstairs.

that girl: Are you OK? Do you need more to drink?
the hubby: I need to go to the hospital.
that girl: You need to go to the hospital!? What happened?
the hubby: I keep getting sick. I’m so dehydrated. My whole body aches. I’ve got chills. I’m afraid to go to sleep in this condition. I don’t think there is anything left in my body.
that girl: So I need to bring you to the emergency room? Are we supposed to call the doctor or something? What’s the deal that we have to do with insurance? Should I call our friends to see if they got sick, too?
the hubby: Let’s not worry about any of that and just go.

The emergency room, friends. Have you ever been to the emergency room? The ER?!?? I haven’t. As you may recall, I don’t do well in hospital situations when the hubby is involved. This time, my mind started racing. Am I going to see people with blood on them? cuts? broken legs? communicable diseases?! I already have effing pink eye. I don’t want to catch anything! What if we have to wait for hours and hours?

When we get to the entrance, there are three police cars parked outside. Please, please, please. Tell me this is normal. I am quickly reminded of when an escaped prisoner killed two people in the ER in 2006. Please tell me the police cars are normal. I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to go in.

We go inside and it’s nearly empty. Whew. There are only three college students sitting together in the waiting room reading and working on their laptops. We will not sit near you. You probably have swine flu. I fill out the paperwork and we wait a few minutes. I hold my breath when a woman walks by, and I insist that we move away from the check-in desk to avoid catching anything from anyone who comes in. Then they call for the hubby and I’m allowed to go in with him. The only thing is, it’s past 1:00am, I’m freaked out, and I misunderstand the nurse. He said we will head left… but I go right… all by myself. It’s not until the nurse says, “Is she not with you?” That I realize how much of a doofus I really am. Sheesh.

We get to the room and the hubby is asked a bunch of questions. Despite the hubby’s hunch that it’s food poisoning, the doctor refutes that opinion. “I think it’s a stomach flu.” A bag of something or other is hooked up, blood is drawn, and a little tube is attached to the hubby’s arm. ack. He’s given some drugs to alleviate the pain. Morphine! Thankfully, he ends up sleeping a little bit and is in less pain. What a relief.

Since the baby laptop is with us, I continue sending out emails. I email his boss and co-workers. And I send out cancellations for everything except my afternoon class. There’s no way I can teach that 10:00am workshop. An email with a 3:15 time stamp ought to take care of that.

I struggle with trying to find something to watch on the little tv. CNN… Larry King’s Interview with Brittany Murphy’s mother and husband. Hmm. It’s better than watching CSI reruns. The last time I did that, I had nightmares. I also struggle with getting comfortable in a little grey plastic chair. The chair ends up winning the battle and I end up staying awake the whole time.

We leave at 5:00am and get to bed by 5:30. The hubby will return to work tomorrow.

Share your ER stories with me. Was it traumatic? Was it scary? Was it not as freaky as you thought?

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2 Responses to ““Paging Dr. Greene””

  1. kristen Says:

    the last time hubby had to take ME to the ER (some kinda intestional bug), there was a gentleman in the room across the hall from me who had a dislocated shoulder. this poor guy didn’t want surgery and even with all the pain meds he gave him, he was still screaming like he was giving birth. after 2hrs (!!) of trying to get his shoulder back in place with nearly every ER person in there holding him down and manipulating his arm, they still couldn’t get it back in place and finally convinced him to have surgery. i have NEVER heard someone scream like this guy…he made my shoulder hurt!


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