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kookicat · 3 years

Text

The Price of Peace

He gives in, in the end, to the doc's increasingly worried questions, coupled with concerned looks from the team and lets the man drive him to the hospital. Maybe he’s more blasé about injuries than the rest of the team, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He knows his body well enough to know when to worry, and while he’s pretty sure there’s no need now, he’s no longer responsible for just himself. He has a team who relies on him now, and that’s enough motivation to accept the offer.

Nate herds Hardison and Parker back to the hotel and Eliot expects Sophie to go with them, but she follows him to the doctor's truck. His zip through hoodie is in her hands and she offers it to him, because the night air is taking on a chill and his skin and hair is still damp from the exertion. He slips it on, keeps his eyes averted from her as he eases his left arm into the sleeve, biting back a curse because moving hurts. It’s been a while since he did any real wrestling and the muscles in his back and thighs are letting him know they’re not happy about it.

The doc unlocks the truck doors and climbs into the driver's seat, cell phone in hand as he makes quiet arrangements. Eliot tucks himself in the back seat next to Sophie with a groan he can't quite stifle. There's a nasty throb starting in his left shoulder and his left eye has started to swell closed. The gloves have worked to mostly protect his hands but his knees and elbows are already sore. It's nothing that he hasn't been through before, but he's not used to anyone looking out for him, more used to retreating to that week's safehouse and bunkering down until the worst injuries heal and he can take his next job. Having a team to care about -for- him is new, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he's totally comfortable with it.

Sophie wordlessly hands him an instant ice pack and he presses it to his cheek, leaning back against the seat and letting his good eye close. His head aches, a sharper pain wrapping around his cheekbone and down through his jaw. The ibuprofen he'd swallowed back in the gym aren't doing anything but making him feel vaguely sick. The truck is chilly despite the hoodie and the ice pack isn't helping. He shivers once, a quick quake working through his body.

"Here," Sophie says quietly and shakes out one of her giant scarfs so it mostly covers him. The silk is cool on his skin at first but it warms quickly. It smells like Sophie- jasmine and musk and some hint of spice that he’s never quite figured out. It helps, blocking some of the cold sir and he feels himself relax, just a little, which helps his tight muscles.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer and even then, his voice isn't quite as steady as he would have liked. "Thanks." He forces his good eye open and rolls his head so he can look at her.

It's just dark enough to hide the expression on her face, but he thinks that she's frowning. "We could have found another way, you know," she says, softly. "No-one would have thought less of you."

Something in his jaw clicks when he starts to speak. "How long would that have taken? We did the right thing." He shifts, fingers clenching under the scarf as his battered ribs join in the chorus of hurts playing on his body. "The Howorths are safe now, and Rucker can't try the same trick on anyone else."

"Damn hard," the doctor says, "watching you taking that battering. Never seen anyone do that before." The doctor glances at them in the mirror, then turns his eyes back to the road.

"It's what he does," Sophie says, with a tone in her voice Eliot can't quite figure out, because he’s exhausted and hurting and still feels vaguely sick. There's reluctant admiration in it, coupled with worry, because they all know there's only so much damage a body can take before something breaks beyond repair.

It's not something he wants to think about, at least not while he's battered and bleeding. He closes his eyes again, leaning back against the seat, and lets himself doze, just a little, knowing it's a risk but doing it anyway. Trust has to start somewhere, and this is that place.

"Eliot," Sophie calls softly as they pull into the hospital parking lot. He's quiet and still on the seat next to her, enough to worry her if it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest. There’s a little blood on the corner of his lip, more caked in his hairline and the sight of it makes something fierce clench in her chest. We should have found another way, she thinks, even though she knows it would have taken too long, left the family they were trying to protect defenceless. As much as she hates it, he’d been right.

He blinks awake, muscles in his jaw clenching as the pain hits again, sending measured breaths through his teeth until he gets it back under control. "Fuck," he breathes, fingers flexing in a way that makes her want to take his hand. He catches something in her expression and smiles, softly. “I’m okay,” he says and hands the scarf back to her.

“Eliot, you’re bleeding,” Sophie replies, and hears the doctor chuckle dryly at her tone. He is though, a slow trickle threading through his hair. His face is lined with pain and she hadn't missed the slight shake in his hands when he passed the scarf back.

He shakes his head, lost for words, and twists to open the truck door, bracing himself as he swings his legs out. Moving is a bad idea, because the slow, sluggish nausea that’s been plaguing him suddenly becomes much more acute, and he has to close his eyes, leaning back against the truck until the worst of it passes and he can breathe again.

Cool fingers find his wrist, and he startles a little, twitching his arm away. “Sorry,” Sophie says, and reaches for his arm again. “May I try something?”

He squints at her, then nods, once, and regrets it as a galaxy of stars filters through his brain. It’s all part and parcel of a concussion, and while he’s lived through it before, he’s not too thrilled to be living through it now.

She presses her fingers against his wrist, feeling for the right spot, knowing she's found it when some of the tension in his jaw fades. "I learned this on a cruise. The ship had some wonderful art I was going to relocate, but we got hit by a tropical storm and I spent three days throwing up until one of the stewards took pity on me."

It helps, as does her warmth as she leans against the truck, close but not quite touching him. "Let me tell you, when he showed me this, I wanted to kiss him and kick him at the same time."

He huffs a quiet laugh at that and starts walking, gently disengaging her fingers. They follow the doc towards the hospital doors and Eliot wonders why in hell he let himself be talked into this. He has no love for hospitals, has spent more time than he'd like inside of them, and he already can't wait to be walking back out of this one.

It's a handsome redbrick building, newer than he'd expected. The doc leads them straight into the ER and points to an open bay, where there’s already a nurse waiting. Eliot stops, thinking about walking back out to the truck, going back to the hotel and sleeping for at least twelve hours. A quick glance at Sophie’s face dissuades him of that idea; she’s frowning, clearly worried, and her eyes keep darting from the blooming bruise on his cheekbone to the still oozing cut on his hairline.

“Eliot?” she says, and the frown deepens. “What’s the matter?” Her hand drifts to his elbow and he draws in a soft breath because the contact hurts. He's pretty sure that come the morning, he's going to be covered in nasty dark bruises.

“Nothing,” he says, and resigns himself to god knows how much poking and prodding, taking a seat on the bed, idly rubbing his thumb over one aching knee. “Can we get this over with?” he asks the nurse, with the best smile he can muster and sighs.

----

He walks out again four hours later, after enough scans and xrays to make him feel like he's glowing, a bag of prescription meds dangling from one hand, a pretty good buzz running through his veins and ten stitches in the cut in his scalp. All he wants is to find a vaguely horizontal place to occupy and sleep for at least eight hours. His limbs feel like they're made from lead, heavy and stiff and vaguely achy. His back aches too, each step jarring through him like he's in a car with a blown suspension. His left shoulder is taped, supporting a torn muscle, and he's starting to wish he'd accepted the offer of a sling.

Sophie is sitting in the waiting area, silk scarf wrapped around her. She looks exhausted and he pauses, feeling a wave of fondness wash over him at the sight. She has nasty oily coffee from the ancient vending machine and she offers him the cup when he walks up to her.

The smell makes his stomach roll and he shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks," he says, voice just a little hoarse, and thinks about sitting down. He's pretty sure he won't get back up any time soon if he does so he rests his hip on the row of chairs instead.

He can see the question in her eyes just waiting to escape, and while she's not frowning any more he's got to know her well enough to know that she's still worried. "I'm fine. Nothing major," he says, carefully avoiding mentioning the hairline fracture in his cheekbone. "Worst of it is a couple of broken ribs and a damned concussion."

She presses her lips together, a mix of anger and concern drawing her brows into a frown. "Just a couple of broken ribs," she mutters and shakes her head.

"Soph," he says, fighting back a yawn. She looks up at the nickname, head tilting just a bit. "I'm fine. I've lived through worse. It'll suck for a couple weeks, that's all." He keeps his tone gentle, knows the anger in her is coming from a place of worry, knows she's probably blaming herself, because he knows for damn sure that's what he'd be doing if their positions were reversed. He'll tell Nate everything in the morning, because you don't hide injuries from your commanding officer, but Sophie doesn't need to know everything. It's just more weight to bear and God knows they're all already carrying enough.

The doc breaks the moment by ambling over, Eliot's chart tucked under his arm. He offers it to the other man. "Figured you wouldn't want a record of your visit leaving here," he says and pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Can I interest anyone in a lift back to their hotel?"

----

The gentle motion of the truck is soothing and he leans on the door, bruised temple resting against the cool glass and lets his mind drift. His eyes don't want to focus, turning the passing street lights into a pleasing blur. He's not sure if it's the concussion, the exhaustion, the drugs, or a combination of all three but he's content to just watch the darkened streets go by. He blinks heavy a couple of times, realising that he's dozing again and they're almost back at the hotel.

The doc swings the truck into the parking lot and drives up to the door, pulling to a gentle stop. Eliot knows he should thank the man but he can't find the energy and settles for an exhausted nod as he opens the door and practically falls out of the vehicle. He desperately needs sleep, preferably before the painkillers start to wear off.

Sophie waves the doc goodbye and comes to stand at Eliot's side, one hand raised like she wants to help but isn't sure how. He digs deep, trawling reserves of energy he rarely ever uses, and forces his legs to move. They stumble into the waiting lift and he leans against the wall with his good shoulder, all the words he wants to say jumbled on his tongue.

She reads something of it in his expression and nods, once; message received and understood.

The lift stops and they walk out. He expects Sophie to head to the girls' room but she doesn't, pulling out a key card and leading the way to the third room they'd hired, the one Hardison had dubbed the control centre. "The doc said someone should keep an eye on you tonight. He listed a few gruesome ways in which you could come to peril," she says dryly and pushes the door open. "Besides, Parker snores. I hope you don't."

"No one has ever complained," he says and limps into the room, heading to the recliner, glad he's got running shoes on that he can just toe off unlike his usual boots. He's pretty sure he's going to have enough trouble getting up in the morning and the bed just seems like tempting fate. "I'm fine here," he tells her and eases down into the soft leather, tapping the button to raise the leg support. It takes him a second to get vaguely comfortable but he's honestly so exhausted that he's not sure comfort is really going to matter.

Sophie shakes a blanket out over him, watching him fight to keep his eyes open. There's something oddly endearing about it that makes her smile. "Go to sleep," she says softly and with a sigh, he does.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/70920525 part two is posted here too. 😊

#leverage #whump #eliot spencer #fanfic #hurt/comfort #sophie devereaux #the tap out job #A little what if #episode tag

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propertyofwicked · 4 years

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Could you do an a-z of dating Tom Blake pls??

ty for the request, i hope this is ok x :)

a-z of dating tom blake

obviously, we’re going to pretend THAT scene doesn’t happen and he just ends up with a tiny surgery nd some stitches :)

warnings: slight sexual references but only like twice lol

a - argue

tom is STUBBORN. that boy will be so wrong yet will be adamant he is correct till physically proven otherwise. this was usually the start of arguments. you too are stubborn, but not to the extent of tom. any argument results in tom going for a walk around the town, to let out all of his pent up anger as he couldn’t bare to shout at you for something so petty. you’d sit in the living room silently, waiting for him to return, which gave you time to think about what to say. once he did come back, he’d sit on the sofa next to you, and take your hands in his, and you’d talk through the problem rationally. since the war, he would get angrier much quicker, the smallest things being able to send him over the edge, so he’d take the time to apologise, as would you, and he’d show you how much he loves you ;)

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

thomas blake is an ass man. any time he can have his hands on your lower back, resting on your arse - he would. he loves to walk behind you, just to show his appreciation for your curves and whenever he’d stand next to you, his hand would be on your arse squeezing it playfully when nobody is looking.

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

tom likes to pretend he is tough and no illness can beat him, and because of this, he will work himself to the bone instead of resting. he’d wake up in the morning, his voice deeper than ever as a cough tickled his throat. as much as he tries to hide it, the moment you notice, he’s back in bed with a cup of tea on the bedside table. when you’re ill, however, tom takes the day off work and just lays in bed with you day, not caring if he got ill as well - as long as you were content.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

you and tom would have really basic dates, enjoying each other more than an expensive meal. often, in the summer months, you’d walk down to the river and have a picnic, or sometimes you’d lay down in his mother’s orchid, watching the petals fall around you. it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re together.

e - engagements (how he proposed)

it would be just dropped into a conversation, nothing fancy and very unprepared in true thomas fashion. like you could just be laying in bed, or cooking dinner and he’d look at you and go “hey, should we get married” and very casually you’d just reply “yeah sure” before realising he was serious and falling into his arms to give him the biggest hug you could. it just so happened he had his grandmother’s ring in his possession so he just used that.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

his family ADORE you. his brother likes you, as you were raised intelligent and could have a good conversation with him - you were also a prime babysitter for him and his wife. his mum loves to finally have a girl tom’s age around, as she had spent 30 years being in an all-male household other than herself. your dad was wary around him towards the start of your relationship, but he soon welcomed him into the family after tom had helped him fix a bookcase. your mum was glad to finally see you happy, glad you’d managed to be comfortably settled down from a young age. since you lived a while away from each other's families, your friends from home never really knew your partner.

g - gifts

you guys are not terribly poor but you’re also not the richest, so surprise presents were fairly rare. whenever tom went home to visit his family, he’d return with a cake baked specially from his mother. sometimes he’d return from work, hiding something behind his back, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and after asking him what he was hiding, he’d produce flowers that he got on the cheap from the market on his way home.

h - how you met

you worked as a nurse in the war, so when tom was carried in, blood pouring from his abdomen, it was your job to take care of him. something in you nagged at you to accompany him the furthest you could, which is how you ended up in a base hospital tending to this soldier. over the months he was in your care, you got to know each other well, and promised to keep in contact when you returned home.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

thomas blake has the stamina of a KING. he is ready to go to town every night and every morning for as long as you can manage - and the look he gave you before was enough to give in almost every night.

j - jealousy

tom gets jealous of the relationship between you and his brother. he felt as if he had also been in his shadow, the younger, less handsome brother. it was obvious when he got like this because he’d go quiet, unlike his usual joking self. you didn’t tend to get overly jealous, as you could tell tom was whipped for you and barely batted an eye at anyone else.

k - kinks

tom has a lowkey breeding kink i reckon, not like 40 kids kinda kink, but he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and seeing you carry his children and raise them. having grown up in a loving family, he wants nothing more than to have one for himself.

l - long distance

whilst you were both away at war, you tended to be in various areas of france. the only contact you had was letters, where he’d tell you about his day or some funny story he witnessed or overheard. you told him of the wounds you saw, as it was the only way you could really pass them through your mind so they didn’t haunt you forever. it was the best part of the week, receiving letters from tom and he felt the exact same when the post came by and a letter with his name in your handwriting was handed to him.

m - moving in

you moved in together at the end of the war, in your correspondence, when the days got long and boring, the only thing you could talk about was the future - where you’d live, how the living room would be arranged. it was more optimistic that truthful but when the war ended and you met again, you both knew it was something you had to do. tom was so glad he could live with someone who had witnessed the same pain and distraught he had and you were so glad that you both had each other in the hard nights.

n - nights out

you’re not much of a party go-er yourself, much rather preferring to listen to the music on the record player. sometimes, you and tom would go out dancing with scho and his wife but it was fairly rare.

o - open with each other

the mutual experiences of the war allowed you two to be so open with each other. if there was anything on your mind, something you couldn’t get off your chest, you knew that you could tell tom and even if he couldn’t get rid of it, he’d make it so much better. tom often had nightmares of the day he got injured and every time he woke up in fits of sweats, you would be there to listen to him and tell him how everything was going to be better.

p - pda

you two aren’t over the top in public but often are reminded with a sly cough from will that you were in fact, in full view of everyone. tom can’t keep his hands of you most of the time, grabbing your arse at any possible chance he got. you prefer to be more cute with your affection, taking his hand when walking down the street or pecking his cheek randomly.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

as mentioned before, you guys normally talk about the war. it makes it so much easier to cope with the horrors that loom over you like a shadow. sharing the experience allowed you both to cope with your own thoughts a lot better.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

Y E S. tom wants a house full of miniature versions of him, and it is something he discusses with you often. you want whatever tom wants pretty much, and having a product of the love you shared was a dream of yours.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he’s very affectionate when he’s sad. rather than bottling up, tom knows how to talk about his problems really openly with you and he’s not afraid to show emotion.

t - together (what you do together)

towards the start of your relationship, after the war, you two would go on cute dates in the forest or on the river bank almost weekly, but you now you guys prefer to stay home and make use of that bedroom ;)

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

tom is even funnier when he’s drunk. he comes home from a night out with will and some other friends and just sits, staring at you. every 5 minutes or so he’d mumble something along the lines of “you’re gorgeous - do you have a boyfriend?”. it was cute to start with but by t eh fifth time, you're laying him down on the bed and trying to lul him to sleep.

v - vacations

tom likes to go to cornwall with you. it’s where he frequently went on holidays as a child, and he loves to take you to the places he visited in his youth.

w - wedding

you guys have a small wedding, just in the church near your house. you couldn’t afford a massive wedding and you didn’t really want one. so you held the ceremony with your families and your closest friends and chose to spend the reception at your house, listening to music on the record player and having a roast dinner.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

obviously, you had cared from him in the war, but sometimes the scar on his stomach would cause him pain if he moved it in the wrong way. there wasn’t much you could do, but you would lay with him and comfort him, or bring him medicine with his food.

y - you (a random headcanon)

“tom have you seen my glasses anywhere?” you called out to the house, hoping and an extra set of eyes could help.

“no, sorry! where did you last see them?” he called back.

“i can’t remember. they were here one moment then the next they weren’t” you trailed off as tom made his way into the kitchen. he took one glance at you, then burst into laughter, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“what? what are you laughing at?”

“baby, have you checked the top of your head?”

“oh my god!” you said, realising they had been there the whole time, your face going a new shade of red in embarrassment.

“awh bless, you really do need glasses,” tom smiled coming over to you, taking you in his arms. his lips pressed to your head in a quick peck before he walked back to where he had been sat before.

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

you’re usually in bed first, choosing to read a book before packing in for the night. tom would stay downstairs longer, reading the paper or going for a shower. but when he did come upstairs, he’d just stand in the door frame and gaze upon you, like he had never seen something so angelic. once he got into bed, you’d mark the page and close the book, leaning into his side and his arm moving to wrap around you.

#1917 #george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman imagine #will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield imagine #thomas blake #tom blake #tom blake x reader #tom blake imagine #richard madden #sam mendes

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crystalinn · 4 years

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I haven’t posted about this here yet, but boy howdy has my life been A Mess™️ of late.

TW: medical talk, high stress situations, mentions of blood under the cut

This is a very long post, so a mild TL;DR: ma’s sick and this is me for eternity now (loud noises in video):

youtube

Picture it. November 10th (ish. Time is hard.). The motherbeast came down with a case of viral bronchitis. She got a few days off work to recover.

A couple days pass. She went back to work. Her manager sent her in the cooler for two hours.

An immediate downturn ft. a fall out of bed that took 45 minutes to fix, heavy panting, confusion, the whole lot. She went to the Express ER. They said “oh hey, your viral bronchitis has become full blown pneumonia. You’re goin’ to the Real Hospital™️ for two days. See if you respond well.” Turns out, she did, at first.

About a week or two of what seemed like solid improvement all came crashing back down when her return to work arrived. She went back to work... or tried to. She went to step onto the curb and gravity said no. She faceplanted the pavement, and the ambulance was called. A thorough concussion check later, and her manager drove her and her truck home. The next day, she went back to the Express ER, and they said “oh shit, your lung xray is worse than last time. Back to the Hospital for you.”

That stay was nine days long. She was tested for tuberculosis (which came back negative, thankfully), and had a PICC line installed. During said stay, she did get rather confused and agitated, as it was near the end of the month and the rent needed paid. She called me in the middle of the night, asking me to move her IV... despite me being at home. So that was a thing.

After she came home on the 4th of this month (December), I had to start administering her PICC line antibiotics, every 8 hours. Did y’all know that cefepime (a bigboi antibiotic) smells like someone doing unholy things to eggs? Sulfuric smelling bullshit, that. Had some hiccups there, what with massive air bubbles in the line and getting the infusion orb stuck on the line. We were supposed to be done the 25th. Then she went to her new primary care doctor, and it was extended to the 6th of January, which h.

Anyway, fast forward to the 23rd. Mum was out with a pal, getting some groceries, and some Miralax ‘cause... y’know, and she fell on her ass. At this point, falling down is like a glowing neon red flag. She came home, was a bit wobbly, but was generally okay. Her primary care doctor called after the home health nurses stole some blood to tell her that her potassium levels are critical. A friend/my ‘adopted’ brotherbeast, Frank, brought her a fuckton of bananas that night.

Now this is where it gets real fuckin’ spicy. The morning of the 24th, after we get done with the 7am orb, I gave her a dose of Miralax. She was fine, until the 3pm orb, when severe gut cramps showed up. Those lasted until about midnight when things... moved along. After that, shit went downhill fast. I put her to bed after orb times at 11 pm, and she kept waking up. As time went on, she got more and more confused. Like, she knew general things, in a kinda slow way, but she could not follow directions. On the morning of the 25th (fucking Christmas.), things had reached its boiling point. She was very confused, unable to focus, slurring words. I rang up a friend, Sandy (who has been a massive help this whole time of Fuckery), to get her to the ER. This triggered a complete meltdown. It took both of us to get her out of her chair, not to mention the sudden burst of confused crying and begging not to go.

We finally managed to get her there, and the ER’s like “yo this looks like a stroke, so we’re gonna keep her, do an MRI or three, and get back to you.” Turns out she was very dehydrated, currently has a UTI, and is still a bit... shall we say, fucked up. But, the MRI came out clean, but there was some issue with the PICC with like, a blood clot, but they cleaned it out, so they let her go on the 26th.

But just wait for it... I put her to bed pretty much as soon as she got home, ‘cause she doesn’t sleep in the hospital. Makes sense, right? I went to check on her at about 8, and she was unable to really comply with requests/commands/questions. I’d ask “what’s your name?”, I’d get her name (most of the time), but when I’d ask “when’s your birthday?”, I’d get her name again. Or the fact she lost her PICC line cap, and I’d ask her to hold the newly sterilized port so it wouldn’t touch anything, she’d say okay, take it, and immediately drop it. Repeatedly.

I broke down whilst on the phone with my dad because everything has been too much of late, and eventually put her back to bed to wait for the 11pm orb.

11pm rolled around... and well. I couldn’t get her to wake up. She’d react to me poking and prodding her by making noise and moving away, but she would not wake up. Not properly. So, I called the on call home health nurse to see if she could help, and she pretty much told me to just call an ambulance. Not wanting the expense because I live in Hell the US, I called my dad. He helped me try to wake her up over the phone, but she flat refused. I was left with no choice. So, I called the ambulance, and just before they knocked on the door, she sat up like “huh?” but extra confused. She almost didn’t go to the hospital because she said “nah, I don’t want to go” but one of the EMTs was like “nah, you gotta go.”

So, she spent about 8 hours in the ER, and they told me that they can’t keep her since she was mostly lucid, but they did float an Idea (a skilled nursing facility, at least until she got her ducks in a row) to her that was immediately denied, but with some prodding from me, she finally agreed. So they moved her upstairs from the ER to keep her until they can find a facility in the Blue Cross/Blue Shield network that’s reasonably local. The one that came to visit yesterday turned out to not be, and I’m pretty sure the dude kicked it back to the Case Supervisor to see if they can find another. But, after they moved her into her room, she’s cleared up quite a bit.

She’s still a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, a bit unfocused, and can get caught out in the grapes mentally, but she has improved a lot.

Oh, and another thing she’s been doing is fighting me re: eating since the first go around. Bread’s a texture issue, rice is hard to eat without teeth, and everything else “smells bad” (which, since she’s quit smoking as of that second hospital stay... I understand, but you gotta sometimes push past that.) I did manage bananas though. Thank fuck for those.

But, back to the plot: today (the 28th) was a decent day. Much clearer, less starts and stops in her speech. A bit more focused. She didn’t manage to sleep last night, so she was kinda tired. Had another MRI, but we won’t know about that until probably tomorrow (the 29th). Maybe. Had some PICC issues, though. The nurse got the cefepime running just fine, then mum had to use the bathroom, and when she came out, the machine started screaming bloody murder. After that, the nurse came back and tried to flush the line, since the cefepime was unable to run, and when she took the syringe off, the saline shot right back out... which ain’t supposed to happen. Hit me, the nurse, mum, the bed... probably got the windows too. So they’re working on that, and hopefully they figure it out.

Had my own woes at the hospital today, too. The sole of my boot fell off, so my ride/friend/adopted sister?, Sandy, went to walmart and got me some Heavy Duty Superglue, which I got it about half way stuck before we had to leave... then when we were pulling into the parking lot at home, the nurse in charge called to ask some questions about the PICC, the antibiotic, how long it’d been there, how long she was supposed to be on it, the pharmacy’s number, all that. So I went to get out of the car, my coke bottle fell out of my pocket, started rolling under the car, and I overextended. Fell right on my knees. They are not happy. Took a hot minute to get my dumb ass off the ground, without hurting Sandy, who is like 5′2″ and v smol. I am 5′6″ and... decidedly not. Plus the bonus rain.

UPDATE 12/29/2019: the diverticulitis has made a reappearance. It’s like everything is just It’s free real estate.

UPDATE 12/31/2019: Around 2 am this morning, she managed to roll out of bed and whack her head pretty good on something. They did a CT scan, and it came out clean. No concussion. However, now she has a sitter/keeper/minder to make sure she doesn’t do it again. It’s a good thing the nurses heard her fall, ‘cause despite being armed, the bed alarm didn’t go off. I know of all of this, ‘cause the hospital called me at 3 this morning, and boy howdy that’s a gut drop, let me tell you. But, better a CT ride and a bump on her noggin vs. the alternative. Sure is one thing after a-fucking-nother, ain’t it though.

UPDATE 1/1/2020: 2019 keep your problems challenge: she's had a major mental shift again, and now she's really groggy, really confused... So the hospital moved her to the ICU and called me for consent on a spinal tap, just to make sure they're not missing anything. Other than that, they've done x-rays and another CT, I think to check her spine, hips, the one leg she's been having issues with. The doctors also think that it may be the cefepime causing this altered mental state, and after doing some digging, boy howdy I sure believe it. Cephalosporins are some nasty fuckers.

So! That’s been my month and a half! I’d like to take a break now, please!

EDIT: Further updates found here.

#medical tw //#high stress situations tw //#mentions of blood //#honestly this is more of a log for me in a more concrete area than discord #but if anyone's interested in the Fuckening that is my life rn #have at it

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darknrandomthoughts · 5 years

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The adventure of my ass

So I went to the ER yesterday because I lost a plug up my ass. Went 5 towns over because I live in a small rural community and my job is extremely public and for the city. After I freaked out for 15 minutes I dressed my plugged ass and off I went.

The hilarity commenced as soon as I started talking to the intake person when she wasn't sure what to put down as the reason for my visit and I suggested foreign object anal retrieval.... she choose to leave it blank.

I had to get an xray and my pants needed to be off so the tech gave me a sheet for "modesty sake" (his words) and I'm like dude I have a frikken plug stuck in my ass, I have no modesty left to speak of.

When that was done a nurse came in (she is a Saint) and talked the doctor into letting her try to retrieve it first so I wouldn't have to go through a consult. I was cracking jokes and she said "Don't worry about it. We've all be here". And I looked at her 🤨 and said "Oooooh reeallly?" which got her to laughing.

Thank all that is good she got it out. Afterward I offered to be her lesbian lover if she went that way. The other nurse said I was welcome back any time for whatever reason..... But hopefully not for this. And to get a wider flanged plug. These two nurses are getting a huge ginormous treat basket from me.

So all in all not a bad experience beside my initial minor (apocalyptic) freak out and I stupidly decided to see if I could fish it out with a pair of needle nosed pliers (no worries I came to my senses before I did anything dumb).

I broke 3 cherries 🍒 (losing a toy in me, hospital treatment for said lost toy, and anal fisting 🤣)

Best $200 I ever spent.

I am now sitting at home with my extremely happy unplugged ass.

Morals of the story.... Always keep your sense of humour because it makes everything so much easier, and get your ass to the hospital and let them do what they do if you run into issues, and be honest. Trust me they know it didn't accidently happen because you "fell weird".

*Oh and to top it all off, as I was sitting and being seen, I was wishing I had showered this morning and moisturized, and had on cute panties instead of my period underware because apparently having a plug in my ass sideways was incidental compared to those things 🤦‍♀️. I guess I do have my girl moments.

Plus while I was waiting to be seen (in a way I never thought I would be) I decided the fucking thing was jinxed and shopped for new. Yep as I was sitting there with a cock shaped butt plug stuck sideways in my ass, waiting to see if it could be removed I shopped for better quality ones that have a much larger flange.

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binglesbanglesbabies · 4 years

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THE most goth/punk wicked witch you will ever see. And she STILL doesn't have any pants. Because obviously I'm a lazy a**. So a little bit of news: we spent several LONG hours at the ER early this morning with mom. Turns out she's broken the plate in her arm, which created a cyst, which created lots of pain. (Long story short, she broke that arm in 2007, two surgeries and a bone infection later, she's left with a little nub of bone at her shoulder, and a slightly longer piece at her elbow, with an empty (now broken) plate and screws in between.) I have been on the phone all day trying to find a doctor that will take her case, with very little success. Everyone wants to see her medical records first and apparently the xrays from last night just aren't enough. But those surgeries were like 12 years ago, so I can't even remember the names of the doctors she saw to even try to find all those records, a lot has happened since then, sooo I'm kinda stuck. I called her pc to see where they can get with it. We know she went to UVA for the last surgery, so hopefully they'll be able to get those surgery details minimum and forward them to a few places with her current xray and see where we can get from there. Just wish us luck guys, cuz this is looking hopeless. . . . #binglesbanglesbabies #monsterhigh #mh #monsterhighdoll #mhdoll #monsterhighooak #ooakmonsterhigh #monsterhighrepaint #repaintmonsterhigh #rerootmonsterhigh #monsterhighreroot #ooakmh #mhrepaint #wickedwitch #wickedwitchofthewest #punk #goth #punkrocker #wizardofoz #gothpunk #rainbowhair #rainbow https://www.instagram.com/p/B7jY293hh3K/?igshid=15vywm8i5x9o3

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impulsiveinsomniac · 6 years

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my sweet baby kitty has a problem with her abdomen and Drew & I spent all night in the ER with her ): they gave her a few shots to help until tomorrow.. calling everywhere in the morning to see where can get her in for xrays and bloodwork. my heart is in a million pieces and I am absolutely fucking distraught. my sweet girl ):

#emotional support animal #boo #baby girl #kitty #my everything #she seems so uncomfortable #i just want to make her feel better

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tarsnake · 7 years

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My girlfriend is the best. I injured my foot at work Saturday, thought I'd be fine, went out to the movies with people, was still hurting quite a bit, but thought a night's rest would help. Woke up sunday morning in awful pain, but it was too late to call in to work. Just driving there was awful. Decided i definitely wanted to see a doctor, so i sent the girlfriend a text letting her know what was going on. We had plans for when i was off of work, and i just wanted her to know what was going on in case I was there late. Her response to my text: "im getting dressed, I'll be there soon". She drove an hour and a half just so i wouldn't have to drive myself to the doctor, and just so I'd have someone with me in the ER. The doctors and techs let her in the rooms with me. (The xray tech was funny; looked at us, "ok, i have to ask, but any chance you could be pregnant?") Spent the day sunday napping and watching tv and such with her, with her scolding me whenever i tried to get up and get myself something. And all the while she made sure to reassure me that she didn't feel forced obligated to help, that she wanted to be there with and for me, and that i deserve to have someone take care of me once in a while. She ended up staying a few hours after i went to bed talking with my mom. I feel so lucky to have her, even if we don't get to see each other as often as we'd like to. Btw, toes aren't broken! I got a medical boot to wear for a while, and while it still hurts, the pain is much better now.

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pansexualbatgirl-blog · 7 years

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So like. Some people were kinda confused by the scattered posts and talking from my mutuals bout my new medical issues so I’m just going to quickly explain stuff here rather than to everyone individually. Anyways below this is my horror story of my gallbladder so far. No I did not have surgery yet but I’m scheduling stuff tomorrow when their office is open from the holidays. I’m alright now but occasionally still in pain and have been p much forced onto a diet.

Anyways without further ado, have the extended story of how 2016 fucked me up one more time right at the end. Anyways, I’m avoiding the majority of the gross details (the worst being probably my ultrasound and the pain which was bad)

My gallbladder got infected AND has gallstones (which is like a complicated thing im not gonna explain but long story short: OW) which happened some time just before christmas (the infection part).

Anyways I thought I had the flu the day after so I was tryna rest and stuff but all day on the 26th and 27th I was sick super bad and wasn’t able to eat. and on the 28th i was STILL sick superbad but the pain i thought was just the flu had just gotten super intense. And by that I mean when my moms boyfriend drove me to the hospital I cried at every bump. I was in so much pain it had just taken over my whole stomach and made it hard to walk and move and do anything p much (which was why I had been going to the hospital)

So anyways my mom had work in the morning and so did her boyfriend so nobody was able to stay there with me (and hospitals terrify me, for the record). So anyways I finally get to a room in emerge and the doctor comes in and THANK GOD it had been long enough for the initial tests to come in so I didn’t have to tell them I was a virgin and therefore Not Pregnant 30 billion times (because as a girl going to the hospital for stomach issues, thats their first thought). So he has me lay on my back and then starts pressing on my stomach and I screamed really loud and was caught between shaking and holding still because it hurt so bad i didnt want to move but like. He kept pressing on different places trying to find out where the pain was worst and it was on the right side (which I couldn’t really tell before since it had p much taken over half my body) which is Bad. Like, pain in the right side of your stomach is bad and they thought it was my appendix maybe so I got told I was going to get an xray and an ultrasound.

Which freaked me out.

So after he left the room my nurse came in and told me that it’d only be a few more minutes and then I was having a small anxiety attack so she helped talk me through some questions I had about the type of ultrasound the doctor had planned (bc it was originally gonna be one of the insert-smth-in-your-body ones) and told her I had anxiety issues (which will come up again later). Anyways she explained things in a way that made me feel less scared and then told me it would be painless and how it worked and made sure I was ok before going.

A few minutes later a guy comes in and puts the thing they put IVs in you into my arm and then injected me with morphine and some fluids and then walked me down to wait for my xray (which was so fucking painful lemme tell you. hes lucky the drugs were good or id have passed out by then but again: anxiety. I was too scared to ask for a wheelchair to go there).

So then they do my x-ray and the lady walked me to the ultrasound room. Not sure why (either from dehydration or because the nurse told them i was anxious about the other type) but I got the normal type of ultrasound. Which, idk if all of you have gotten one before, but theyre generally painless. Generally. They coat your belly in gel and then rub it with this thing that shows them your stomach-- painless. And by then the screeching roar of pain had dulled down a bit. Enough for it to only hurt in some places rather than all.

Anyways, she starts and I start crying right away. Like not moving, but tears everywhere. She had to guide my breathing the whole time (okay hun I need you to breathe. deep breath and hold it. okay now breathe, i know it hurts im sorry) and like I don’t know how long I was in there but it felt like forever and I was just in SO much pain the whole time even with the morphine in me.

Anyways bless her soul when she realized I had walked there she just “haha fuck that no i am wheeling you back you are not walking” only more polite and like when I answered I had walked she had this “im going to kill someone on your behalf” look on her face. So yeah she wheeled me back and told me she couldnt tell me about what she had seen on the thing (as they send it to a professional to get the reading) but she had a worried look which left me super anxious.

Ten-ish minutes not even later, the doctor comes back in, along with the nurse. He tells me that theyre admitting me and that it’s my gallbladder. He mentions its infected and my mind just goes blank with terror because when my mom had her gallbladder out it got infected amd she almost died. And at that time it didnt matter that my older sister and like two or three of my aunts had gotten theirs out with no problems, my mind just went straight to “oh my god I am going to die immediately there is no hope Im going to die alone right here in this room”. And the doctor is a bit patronizing and keeps asking me if I understand whats going on and what hes telling me and I just keep nodding and saying yeah and he left me with the nurse to go over the other stuff and I lost it. Like I had asked if I could call my mom (who I knew would understand WHY my anxiety attack had turned to a panic attack) and the nurse had been about to say that she had to go over some medical stuff first but when I broke down she quickly (bless her soul) got me my phone and let me call my mom right away (because again, I was alone at the hospital).

So yeah Im full blown panic mode and I get my mom on the phone and I barely get out “mom its my gallbladder” before i can no longer talk because I’m having trouble breathing. So my moms talking and asking me things (trying to see how bad it is) and I just am having trouble keeping up the conversation because I’m crying so hard so the nurse offers to talk to her and explains what all is going on to my mom for me properly and how bad it is (again, bless this ER nurse because she’s literally my hero). So my mom had mentioned “yeah when I had mine out I almost died from an infection” and my nurse just “yeaahhh lets not tell her that” but the thing is I already knew it was one of the scariest parts of my life and my mom said that and she kinda got how bad it was. Anyways so she gives my phone back and left to go get me something for my anxiety and my mom is telling me to call her if anything comes up and I knew she had to work in the morning so I’m trying to be calmer (because my mom needs p much all the hours that she gets, our family never has had too much money) and I went to ask if she could have her boyfriend or my sister or aunt or someone come sit with me the next day and my voice broke and it was a big sobfest and she just “I’m going to call in right now and drive up there” and Im trying to tell her not to but she just “I wouldnt be able to work with you there alone ANYWAYS” and stayed on with me while she was getting ready then when the nurse came back let me go so she could call her work (it’s community living so theres someone there 24 hours a day to answer, but either way its like one in the morning)

So the nurse brought me a pill for anxiety and chilled with me until it was time to send me up and ALSO had the pill ordered for the floor I was on so Id be able to have one if I had another attack. Now, like taking care of patients is one thing but she was an honest to god angel okay. Like she went way above and beyond what she needed to do and was super kind the whole time and even helped me pack up the little bit of stuff I had. Like good nurses in my hospital arent anything new but she was incredible and I can’t express that enough.

anyways when I’m up in the room they let me wait for my mom to get there (I was put in the old ppl ward because it had the first bed open on that floor, since it shares one with OB). When my mom got there they went over stuff with her and they said they’d know by morning if I was responding well enough to anti-biotics or if I needed an emergency surgery (which wouldve meant the inflamation/infection was very, VERY bad and not getting better). By then Ive mellowed out because morphine + anxiety medication = the highest Jean you ever did see. So I sign some papers and my mom asks more questions and then the nurse leaves (again, I was super high on the crap they gave me so I don’t really remember this part too clearly). But my mom stayed with me until I was falling asleep then gave me a hug and kissed and promised to be back in the morning when the surgeon would make the call.

Morning comes and I wake up and I woke up in too much pain to even try moving enough to hit the red page-y button for a good few minutes. Anyways when I do they bring me pain meds and they take a little while to kick in (as it was oral ones and not morphine this time) but kick in they did and by the time my mom got there (like half an hour later, its a 20ish minute drive from her place) I was very much high again (albeit still in pain).

So we wait for FOREVER for the doctor to come in and I get the news that I don’t need surgery right away but DO still need it. Annnnddd then I’m told Im spending another night there which was blah. I was also told that I wasnt allowed to eat or drink anything and that I’d be on antibiotics and fluids through my arm since they had to flush out my system or whatever.

She sat with me most of the day and chatted with the older lady’s son who was my moms age nd really nice to me even tho i spent most of the day half asleep nd full of painmeds. Anyways aroundlike 2ish? they took me to another room with a new nurse (this one in OB where I was supposed to be) and the guy wished me good luck and joked around bout how they’d loan me a wheelchair because his mom had like 4 different varieties in there ok. So in OB I had my own room and it was super big and the bed was super comfy,

Anyways my mom had to leave and let her dogs out and take care of my animals at my place so I laid there and napped off and on between pain meds and messaged some people and such. I kept dozing off on everyone though and needing to take breaks from talking and honestly theres not much to tall about this part. I slept and slept and my mom came back later and brought me a colouring book, a change of clothes, toothpaste nd toothbrush. Whcih is important because the morphine made my mouth taste gross and I wasnt allowed to have water even. Toothpaste with a gross mouth is a blessing. Boi, the things you appreciate when in the hospital lemme tell you.

Anyways I had to stay another night, this one less eventful and with less pain. I slept the whole thing nd in the morning I was feeling good enough to get up without pain meds (which i didnt need the rest of the day either woohoo). And my appetite came back (I hasn’t eaten since christmas night and even then, not that much as i didnt want food really. I hadn’t really been eating much at all that day or the couple before it) which was both good and bad... good because it meant I was getting better and bad because I was FUCKING HUNGRY OH MY GOD. But I had been dying for a drink since the day before so when later that day one of the peeps came in with apple juice and ice water I was so happy. When I was able to handle that ok I got a liquid lunch (jello, a popsicle nd broth and MORE APPLEJUICE!!!) and it was good. I got discharged not long after nd then got to go home after getting antibiotics nd pain pills.

So now the plan is to book a follow up tomorrow (since the office was closed due to the holidays) and then i go in for surgery round the middle of february. Which means I’ll probably be in the hospital on my birthday which is, you know, wonderful. Although the bright side is I’ll probably get pity presents. Maybe I’ll get a pity party. BUT I’M NO LONGER ALLOWED CAKE SO IT DOESNT EVEN MATTER.

Like I’m not on an as-little-fat-as-possible diet until its out since fattty stuff will iritate/inflame it again. I also have to avoid sugar or eating a lot at once so. Bright side I’ll probably lose the weight ive been trying to get off downside i cant eat fucking anything and i hate everything 60% of the time.

But ya that’s my story if you read this far ilu nd thanks for listening to me bitch

#jean can you n o t #rant #im dying right now tho tbh #fuck everything

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informationisscience-blog · 6 years

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Criticisms of the Hospital Process

Unfortunately over break, instead of spending time with family or with family and working on assignments, I spent most of it in bed. As someone who rarely gets sick, I was surprised to find myself horribly ill, with the sickness culminating over the weekend.

Even with my mentality of telling everyone to “suck it up” and man up, I found myself awake late at night realizing I needed to take myself to the ER. So, I walked out of my apartment at 1:30 in the morning, and took an uber to the ER.

Now to clarify, this is NOT a critique of the healthcare system or an endorsement of any other. I have insurance I am very satisfied with and have received nothing but reasonable care my entire life.

I tried to let them know I was coming through their non-life-threatening online check-in to avoid a long wait and to give them the courtesy. This was my first problem with their system. One, it informed me that I had life threatening symptoms. So rather than allowing me to check-in, it blacklisted by IP Address and demanded I show up. So even though I now apparently had life-threatening symptoms, I could not inform them I was on the way. Seems like a bit of an issue.

So alas, my uber arrives at the hospital and I walk inside. There were zero signs directing me where to go, but I was able to guess and make my way towards a CA who checked me in. This was not a big issue for me since I was alert albeit very ill, but I could only imagine being someone not so alert and trying to find my way around.

After checking in and giving my insurance information, I was directed to a room where they took my vitals, which I actually thought was efficient since the woman who checked me in was also the one to take my vitals. Then, I waited. The ER was empty, and I waited. Not a few minutes, not ten minutes, not twenty minutes, but well over 35 minutes till a PA came into the room.

The PA himself was great, but I heard him gossiping with the RN for 10+ minutes before he came into the room. There seems to be a little bit of a disconnect in what sort of service the customer (or patient in this case) should be provided.

After the PA recommended tests and chest Xrays I wsas sped through those in a timely manner, and then waited. And waited some more. And heard the doctor in another room gossiping. And waited. And waited. I was a bit too sick to really care enough about saying anything and was just enjoying the topical analgesics they had rubbed onto my throat instead.

All said and done, it was over three hours in the ER before they told me they had no idea what was wrong with me, and just gave me permission to take high doses of NSAID’s and said see you in here later if it doesn’t get better.

Now, my own subjective experience could have been better, yes. But that aside, the inefficiency that was shown by the hospital staff is bad for them! Sure, I was not going to die on the bed and it may have been a slow night, but the bars get out at 2AM and they could very quickly be filled up, making a backlog with the non-critical patients they did have. A 2004 study supports my views, showing that it keeps the ER from becoming over saturated! This other more opinionated piece talks a bit more about patient happiness, though like I said I care less about that and more just about hospitals being run in a way that keeps them more ready for emergency. If they were to have some sort of standards in place regarding how quickly patients need to at the very least get seen and assessed, I could have been in and out in less than 90 minutes, freeing up their staff to be prepared for any other emergencies, and it would have taken ZERO extra work on their part.

Alas, I doubt my personal opinions will be taken to dramatically change a health care system, but one can only hope.

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kittywildegrrl · 7 years

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MAMA CAT CLAWS HER WAY BACK

Good afternoon from Memphis, darlings! My, but it’s been a while. As I await my delightful bloody Mary here in the friendly confines of the Sun Studio bar & grill on Concourse B, a full two hours before boarding, it seems like a good time to catch up.

Here’s what I started for you on the evening of January 18th:

Good evening, darlings. Here I sit at the bar of VYNL, waiting for the lovely and talented Sharps (Adam & Bethany), that we may dine and catch up. Yes that’s right, Mama’s back in Manhattan. Flying out tomorrow night for Minneapolis, where three Murder Mystery shows and a commercial shoot all await me this weekend.

As you may recall, when last I visited NYC, in October, I was waylaid by illness and spent about half of my month here laying on the couch and ordering Grub Hub. Not as much fun as it sounds, believe you me. The lovely and talented Shannon Haddock, and her equally lovely and talented husband Phillip, gave me not just a place to crash while in the city taking classes and doing auditions, they ended up allowing their living room to be a sick room. For this, I probably owe them like a trip to Europe or something.

That’s when Adam showed up and we got talking politics and Bethany arrived and we had a wonderful meal and good times and solved ALL of the theatre and ALL of the politics. The wine helped. They even bought me dinner. I have a lot of very awesome friends. And later that night, the dreadful Cold From Hell kicked in bigtime. I spent my last day in New York packing and resting up for the plane. Shannon met me at Caffe Reggio (thanks for the tea and carrot soup!) and helped me to the train to the airport. Later that night, I found out how fun it is to receive emergency medical treatment on a plane. Good times.

So the next day, Phil took me to the doctor. My doctor gave me 2 inoculations, a prescription for antibiotics, and a prescription for Prednisone (the miracle steroid). Well one man’s miracle is evidently a MamaCat’s nightmare. The day after finishing the prescription for Prednisone, I started to feel really, really awful. I had thought I was recovering, but ZOOM! Down the rabbit hole of symptoms I went. By 5:30 on a Saturday morning, we were frantically searching for which ER is “In Network” for us. I literally thought I was dying. I told my dog goodbye forever. I gave Phil my last wishes. I really, really thought this was the well-known “It”. I have never been so terrified in my life. It was two days before my 59th birthday and I was crying all the way to the hospital because I knew I would never live to see that birthday.

So we get to the ER, I’m barely able to function, and just as I was asking the admitting personnel, “Can I get some help” -- down I went in a heap. I had been falling down and dropping things for a few days now, and I was pretty sure we were about to find a brain tumor.

Four hours. Saline IV drip, CT scan, chest Xray, CBC, you name it. We probably ran out our entire [idiotically high] out-of-pocket in one morning. And they told me, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Feel free to scream if you wish. I just about did.

For you see, in MamaCat’s innocence and delirium, when they asked me if I felt like I was having mental issues, I didn’t stop with, “Yes, tremendous cognitive issues. I am having trouble (big pause while I reached for the words) accessing polysyllables. That’s not like me.” Oh no. Silly girl. They pursued with, “Are you depressed?” and like a fool, I said, “Yes, frankly, I’ve been experiencing depression since around 6pm on November 8th. You want to make me feel better, get me a REAL President.” The ER doctor, in her wisdom, said, “I’m a doctor. I can’t change who the President is. Do you understand that I can’t do that for you?” Oh, please. Really, ER doctor?? “So, do you feel like you’re losing your mind?” “Yes, I kind of do, that’s what it feels like. I’m certainly not myself.”

I had thought we were discussing what my symptoms felt like. That’s when it took a turn.

“Well, we can’t help you here. We don’t have appropriate facilities here to help someone with your issues. We’re going to hold you until 2pm, when the psychiatrist can accompany you to an appropriate facility.”

WHAT the actual FUCK???

Oh yeah.

They wanted MamaCat committed.

My husband refused their request on my behalf, I refused their request on my own behalf, and that’s when the ER doctor informed me, “I’m sorry We can’t let you go. You have to be moved to the appropriate facility, where they have people who can help you.” Sweet bleeding cheeses on the cracker. Can’t LET me go?! Wanna hear MY thoughts on the subject?!?!

Husband Cat, being the hero that he is, politely (and with Captain Kirk-level firmness) informed the staff that what his wife needed was to be on the couch at home with Nellie the Yaris. (Our rescue dog is the most unique mutt, so we gave her a breed name. She’s a One-Eyed Yaris.) And he was right! But they were pretty nasty about it. They thought they had landed ‘em a big ol’ Crazee and they were most reluctant to catch and release. Nevertheless, we went right the hell home, and I slept something like 20 of the next 24 hours. Also, the film and the gigs? Didn’t happen for me that weekend. You saw that coming, didn’t you?

When I woke up, I was SO much better. Weak as the proverbial kitten, but clear of mind and ready for coffee. The thing is, I had been so out of it that it never occurred to me to simply look up my symptom set online. Me. Little Miss Research. Didn’t think to go to the Google machine. Guess what? That’s one of the many, many symptoms of a bad Prednisone reaction. Here a few of the symptoms I experienced:

agitation

blurred vision

decrease in the amount of urine

dizziness

fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse

headache

irritability

mood changes

numbness or tingling in the arms or legs

pounding in the ears

shortness of breath

trouble thinking, speaking, or walking

troubled breathing at rest

abdominal or stomach pain

backache

cough or hoarseness

diarrhea

dry mouth

eye pain

fainting

fever or chills

heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous)

increased thirst

loss of appetite

lower back or side pain

muscle pain or tenderness

muscle wasting or weakness

pain in the back, ribs, arms, or legs

painful or difficult urination

sweating

trouble healing

trouble sleeping

unusual tiredness or weakness

vision changes

(source: WebMD, drugs.com)

One MD, one EMT, 2 nurses, and a PA, and nobody thought “drug reaction”. We had brought them the very pill containers themselves, so that they would have complete information right up front as to what I had been taking. And they thought, “Crazy Lady must be Mental” before anybody thought, “drug reaction”.

(”We thought ‘Indian headdress’ before we thought ‘hat’” -- HIMYM)

Well, guess what? I’m fixin’ to find out if that’s actionable, cats and kittens. MamaCat don’t allow no BS ‘round here. Smells like malpractice.

Anyway… all I have now is the good old “UPTA flu,” which is contracted by bringing about 700 theatre makers together for a long weekend, on planes from all over, so we can all audition and hug and so forth. It’s been a fun winter for respiratory contagions of all varieties, all over the country, and those of us who have been on a lot of planes are having the most fun with that. And I have learned a little something about my relationship with Prednisone – I had been given a smaller Prednisone dosage in Cortland when I was so sick during KITCHEN WITCHES and had experienced milder versions of these symptoms, but never connected it with the steroid. I think it is not good for me. Good for some people, but not for MamaCat.

Well, as I said to some beloved producers I saw at UPTA, I may as well avoid steroids altogether. If I want to switch careers to Major League Baseball, I’d never make it to Cooperstown if there were steroids involved. And the way my Minnesota Twins play, the MLB is a viable option for me.

Love you, darlings. Be well. Do good work. Meow.

#actorslife #upta2017 #liveandlearn themoreyouknow happytobealive

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