January 07, 2022

So This Is The Hospital? Needs Better Urinals.

The ambulance backed into the ERs dropbox, dragged me out the rear... better than via the roof hatch.  I actually asked why there was a roof hatch, but alas I was already being rolled into the lovely eggshell blue hallway to a room past the open bay where the high pressure world of traumatic wounds and spurting blood in a life or death conflict against Death itself.


Two doctors were eating pizza and chatting. But in a high intensity manner.

The EMTs had one last gift for me as they dragged me off the gurney to the bed-like object that would be my resting spot for the next five hours. They tried not to bump me around, but failed. Not really their fault... YOU try transferring a walrus from one table to another, see how it goes. The next hour is mostly a blur now. Medical people wandering in, poke and prod, then wandering right back out again. Somewhere in there they gave me a stylish gown in no specific color... a sartorial choice that I have become quite familiar with, alas.  

Eventually I began recognizing people that made multiple stops in my space. One actually poked me with a needle to take blood... the first of many vampire visits I'd experience. Someone else hung a bag of whatever because that's what the do in hospitals, then plugged it in.

I'm reading the above stuff, and it's not really very funny. None of it really was, honestly. it's even past my admittedly tiny abilities to make funny. There was a lot of pain involved. Like when they took x-rays of my upper leg and they needed me to turn my leg this way or the other... that really was agony.

Then it was time for the device I'd become very familiar with... the Angry Growling Donut. Yes, others call it a CT Scanner, but I don't care. Sadly I had to do the leg trick again, except in a small confined space with no room to move. Fun was had by all. Then it was back up to the warm and inviting ER room and its remarkably comfortable table with great back support. 

By now it'd been a couple of hours, and I'm sure this'll come as a shock to everybody, I needed to use the little ducky room. This caused a rather confused look to appear on the nurse's face: What do you do when a patient the size of a treaty battleship needs to pump bilges take a leak when he can't sail walk? A handheld urinal was out; prior experience definitely rendered that a non-starter. Suddenly the expression of "brilliant idea!" appeared on the face of a second nurse that had been called in for consultation. Or moral support maybe? Was never quite clear on that, just the first time of many over the next couple of weeks. The decision was made: the collection container (two liters... I appreciated their optimism) from a suction machine (note: possible foreshadowing) and two diapers to catch possible overflows (really, it was quite flattering)...

...and everything held in place by two nurses.

Ah. Yes, of course. I should have realized beforehand.  Suddenly the old adage passed through my mind: "You have no pride, you have no shame. You're in marketing!" Or, in this case, a hospital. Ah well, 25 years of retail burned all that down to a small, mewling thing huddled in the corner of my mind, and it's not like worse things didn't happen the last couple of years at the Duck U Bookstore. So once everything had been set up and the audience allowed to take their seats. I let fly. I tried very hard to keep the sigh of relief contained; no reason to make this any weirder than it already was.
Prize gathered (240ml... hey, it'd been a long time) a look of concern flitted across the nurse's face and she asked me a question that in other circumstances would have me laughing at the surrealness of it all: "How long has it smelled like this?" I could only shake my head: not too long at all, really, but not recently. With that answer received, she took the precious liquid away.

Then another torture device was brought in: the ultrasound machine. This was applied to my inner thigh after that odd gel stuff was gooped on, and Madame Torquemada began her work. To explain just how this felt, let me apply a comparison that can be easily understood. 

Imagine you're in a terrible car accident on the highway. Everything is destroyed, the engine is in the back seat, the front passenger seat is ten yards behind the car, the works. You yourself are unharmed, and simply get out the normal way. As you do, you are counting your blessings.

Then you are attacked by a bengal tiger. Just as the massive teeth and claws approach your unprotected body, you are hit by an 18-wheeler at full trot. Then, as your broken body lies on the side of the road, someone runs up and presses an ultrasound scanner to your leg.  

After being allowed some water... an entire Dixie cup, all to myself!... I was left alone for a bit. I think I texted Brickmuppet and Ben both at this point though to be honest that's kinda slipped my mind. A bit after that, three nurses, led by a woman that was obviously a doctor (if nothing else, her name badge and ID with the large word "DOCTOR" under it gave it away... mind like a steel trap, that's me) walked in.  She explained that the Angry Growling Donut and the ultrasound both spotted a blood clot in my right leg. The good news was that was fairly early in the experience and should respond well to the usual brace of blood thinners and other meds.  The bad news was that she could not admit to t.he hospital without a display of the physical situation. Or to put it simply, I had to try and stand up.

I goggled (back in grad school I would have helmeted. More protection while welding) at her. Seriously? Step one then... slide my legs to the edge of the table. My left leg moved fine, but the star of the evening was my right one... and I couldn't move it. My foot worked, but every pain receptor  in my brain lit up with a nearly visible "TILT" light. After a few more attempts, each hurting more than the one before it, she said "That's enough. Would you agree?" That was directed to the nurses. A half hour later, I left the ER, bundled into an elevator and rolled to my new home for a while.  It was 1030pm on the last day of February, 2021.

Next Time: More Zombies!

Also next time: Hospital pt2: Like A Cloud, only with squeezy boots.

Posted by: Wonderduck at 11:58 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 1158 words, total size 7 kb.

January 03, 2022

Pond Scum: Many Comments.

Me When I Saw Them: ?????... !


Seriously, I did not expect so many of you to have stuck around for so long.  If I had not cried after typing "More Zombies" last night, I assuredly would be now.

tsundere
It's not like I wanted you guys to stick around or anything... baka Pond Scum-chan.
/tsundere

Part II of the story of my predicament vacation is coming; there's a lot of bad things fun things to cover though, and you guys know me... my writing style is not what you could call brief and succinct, even as a joke.

One thing that may surprise y'all is that I didn't discover a lot of new music. Yootoob on my smurtfon was and is clumsy and rife with ads, I don't have Spotify, and there isn't enough storage in it for more than a couple tunes anyway. There was some though, so of course I'm going to make this post seem longer share it with you folks!

Read on, MacDuff!
more...

Posted by: Wonderduck at 11:55 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 409 words, total size 3 kb.

January 02, 2022

Knock Knock, Neo... er... Wonderduck

(yawn) {stretchhhhh}


Boy, helluva nap, that.  I was supposed to have dinner with the folks at 6pm, wonder what time it is?

Oh. Oh boy. That's gonna be hard to explain. Well, lets give it the old Duck U try, hey?

You members of the Pond Scum that have stuck around have been told a little bit thanks to Brickmuppet and Ben, both of whom deserve praise (or scorn, whichever) for keeping me sane for the past very long time.

Short ha ha ha version: blood clot in the leg, with added problems, like a previously unknown UTI and a kidneystone.  And with some nutritional problems to boot because this all started with some leg pain like I have gotten for years. But it got worse, to the point where getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom was about the limit of what I could manage... so I stopped eating.  For about 10 days, give or take, Then Feb 28th, as I tried to shower, my leg stopped doing leg things,

when I fell, I miraculously missed everything so it was about as good as you could hope for. Except now I was naked on the floor of the bathroom, unable to stand up, or really move at all without the leg exploding, So I called 911 and actually said "I've fallen and can't get up." It only took a few minutes for the EMTs and firemen to show up, and they then proceeded to drag me bodily into the living room, got me on a tarp, and got ready to take me out to the ambulance.

At which point, one of them asked about my collection of Haruhi Suzumiya figures. I was more than happy to chat about the 110 figure collection... I'm just a few obscure figs from having every scale, prize, trading, and posable figure listed on myfigurecollection, and the general consensus is that it's probably the largest collection of its type in the US. So I've got that going for me.

Which is nice.

That was the last fun I would have for about a month.

When they carried me to the ambulance, it was snowing. Also, the streets they took to the hospital need some SERIOUS roadwork, because every bump, pothole, or slight depression in it transmitted itself directly to my leg. i'm pretty sure I didn't scream at all. Much. The ER was waiting for me and thus ended any dignity and hope I've ever had in my life.

NEXT TIME: More Zombies. Oh my god, did that joke feel good. 

ALSO NEXT TIME: Welcome To The Pleasuredome Hospital. 

Posted by: Wonderduck at 04:27 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
Post contains 442 words, total size 3 kb.

<< Page 1 of 1 >>
48kb generated in CPU 0.06, elapsed 0.1305 seconds.
54 queries taking 0.0896 seconds, 256 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.