So, despite my best intentions, I did not get a post up on Saturday. The plan was to start a featured post called “Saturday Shenanigans” which would include a story of the Husband Shenanigan variety each Saturday. I had cleared all of this with Batdad, but Friday evening I was not feeling well so I decided to put off his “interview” until Saturday morning. Unfortunately, when I woke up on Saturday morning I had a terrible migraine that only got worse as the day went on. By Saturday evening I couldn’t focus on anything, I was light-sensitive, noise sensitive, and my whole body hurt. This was about the 13th day in a row that I had gotten a migraine. Needless to say, Batdad was very concerned and so were my in-laws. When I burst into tears from the pain, Batdad and my father-in-law (The Welder) scooped me up and rushed me to the Emergency Room while my mother-in-law (Gra Gra-what Little Man says for Grammie) stayed with Little Man.
Upon my arrival at the Emergency Room, I hid under Batdad’s coat from the lights and did my best to focus on the triage nurse’s questions so I could be admitted. I was very thankful to be led to a room with the lights turned out. They administered oxygen for a bit then a lovely woman The Welder decided to nickname “Olga the Nazi Nurse,” came in to give me some injections.
I’d be lying if I told you I remember what they all were. There were 4 and they hurt. Now, I was in a lot of pain, but I still don’t like shots. I have a multitude of tattoos, but I still don’t like shots. I knew that these shots were going to make me feel SO much better, BUT I still don’t like shots. Olga was nice enough to bring in a towel to cover my eyes so that the light would not affect me as much, but that’s where her niceness ended. When I went to move my shirt out of her way she snapped at me to not move my arm where she was administering the shot, then viciously stabbed the fleshy part of the back side of my hip twice before making me roll over so she could repeat the process on the other side. Maybe I imagined the viciousness, who knows.
Before she came into the room with the shots, which I knew were coming, I asked Batdad and The Welder if they knew what area of the body the shots might be given. In my mind I thought that they might be given in the back of the neck, The Welder said when he had his they were given in the arm and I said I would prefer that to a shot in the bum. I don’t know why. It hurts. The last time I had a shot in the butt cheek, the nurse gave me a hard time about not wanting the shot because I have tattoos. I have to say, the two sensations are completely different. A tattoo is elective. I suppose that a shot is also, but if you want to feel better, necessary, therefore, less elective.
Olga rudely commented after her second round of vicious stabbing that she “noticed I have a pretty extensive tattoo on that side of my body.” I do, it covers most of the left side of my back. She then snidely continued that with a tattoo that size a shot shouldn’t bother me at all. Batdad quickly came to my defense and said that they feel completely different and that a needle goes into muscle instead of the top few layers of skin. Overall she was just rude about it and my thought later was, “Spoken like someone who has no tattoos.”
I managed to make it out of the hospital on my own two feet, and eat something that was not even remotely within my acceptable food list before I passed out on the couch while watching RuPaul’s Drag Race. I spent a large portion of Sunday sleeping as well. So I’ll be posting twice today and, once again, attempting to play catch-up this week. The next post will be about my nomination for The Liebster Award, that I’ve actually been nominated for twice now. I’m quite the slacker these days. Hopefully ya’ll will forgive me and I’ll catch up quickly.