Thursday, April 16, 2009

Age sets in...

Okay. I give up. I'm forty-two and it's starting to show. Not from the outside perhaps, but certainly from the inside. I know this because I recently became injured by simply trying to complete a normal bodily function.

Around 2 PM, I notice that I'm acquiring a rather sharp pain in, well, to put it bluntly; ass. By 5 PM I'm quarantined to the couch in the fetal position as the pain becomes more intense. As 9 PM approached, there is no position that is comfortable enough for me, and tears are starting to run down my cheeks.

At midnight, I'm now writhing in pain and turning from one side of my bed to the other, and crying uncontrollably. I call my mother and ask her in between wails and pants to hit the nearest twenty-four hour Walgreens for some of that "H" cream. Like all good mothers, she says, “Of course!” asking me where the nearest one is.
"On Route 1 southbound", I say through my gritted teeth.

 “Well, how do I get there?” She says as if she lives in another town.
I snap at her with a very whiny, “You want me to give you directions!? I hardly know my own name right now".
Now, before you raise an eyebrow on how unappreciative I am being, think about it. I am sorry. How can I be more accommodating when the feeling of a hot, searing pirates’ sword is being shoved up my ass?

She arrives with the cream; I hobble up the stairs and ask her to wait a minute since I have a feeling that no "H" cream is going to solve my little 'problem'. It actually ends up making my pain worse. Now in addition to the searing pirates’ sword, I have a burning, itching feeling.

Oh, lucky, lucky me.

We head to the hospital, I donned in my most fashionable pajama's, a winter jacket and Birkenstock clogs. I am lucky I have shoes at all. Making a fashion statement is not a priority at this point.

I hobble into the ER and find no one. It's dead and empty. “Where the HELL is everyone?!” I say under my breath. The only person I see is a man in scrubs in the distance mopping the floor. "Where are all the nurses?" I ask in a frustrated tone.
The man shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, then continues to mop the floor.

Yeah, thanks a lot, buddy.

By this point, mom notices the sign next to the phone and points to it. It reads - "During the hours of 11PM-7AM please dial 3300 for assistance".
What the fuck?! What ER does that? My mother picks up the phone and in a very motherly tone says, “Ah, Yes, Can SOMEONE PLEASE come out here and assist my daughter, she thinks she has hemorrhoids!”

Even with the extreme pain that has me bent over and in uncontrollable tears, I am still mortified. “MOM! Jesus! A little louder, I don't think the third floor heard you.” “Well,” she snaps, “What do you want me to do?!”

Christ. Shoot me, now.

After being led into an exam room, I wail for thirty-five minutes before a woman shows up and gives me a cheery “Hello!" as if no one heard me screaming in pain through the sheer hospital curtain. I am on my side, in the fetal position gripping the bed rail with my ass hanging out of my opened-back hospital gown.
Without introducing herself, she goes over to my area of ‘concern’ to take a look. I turn and say, "Um, are you the nurse or the doctor?" She stops smiles, and says, “I'm the PA. The Physicians Assistant." and starts to begin to examine me. She never tells me her name. But writhing as I was, “PA” was good enough for me. Knock yourself out, honey.

She lays a single touch on me and I'm about to show her my right hook. She steps back, chuckles a bit and says, “Do you want a pain med?”
I think to myself, Are you fucking kidding me!? Nah, let's do the examination Au natural just for shits and giggles. But instead, I let out a wailing “YEEEAASSSS!”
Again, she seems to think that this is all very funny then says in a condescending Donna Reed tone, “Well, I think THAT was a yes! I'll be right back with the shot.”

Twenty minutes later still in pain, my mother is starting to huff and puff in her seat about why it's taking so long for them to bring the shot. Five minutes after that she is looking out of the curtain mumbling to herself.
“It shouldn't take THIS long to get a shot”. I get the feeling that she's about to break out in a Shirley McLaine scene from the movie Terms of Endearment. You know the one, Debra Winger is in the bed all writhing and dying, and Shirley McLaine is screaming to the nurses, “Give my daughter the SHOT!”

Me, not wanting to bring any more attention to us than I already have, I say, “Please Ma, don't do anything, she'll be here.”
My mother shifts in her seat and retorts with disgust, “Well, I just think this is RIDICULOUS! It shouldn't take this long!”

A few minutes later a male nurse comes in, who was kind of cute until he smiles, revealing teeth that just look all confused about where their correct placement in the mouth should be. He gives me the shot and says “It's going to burn a bit.”

So, now my ass and my arm are burning, but it is a small price to pay for comfort. It takes a while for the med to take effect, but when it does, Wow, am I loopy. They may have stuck a fist up there and I wouldn't have cared in the least. For the record, I am not into any kind of kinky anal action- there is a reason for this disclosure.

The male nurse comes back and asks me how I'm doing. I turn my head to look at him and I must have given him a pretty whacked-out look because he starts to giggle and then makes a statement that makes even me under my drug induced haze stop and say, “Huh?"

He leans on the bed rails, gives me a quirky smile and says; “Now, you know, if your mother wasn't here, I would be asking you some pretty sensitive questions about what you were doing back there.”

I think to myself, Oh no He dit-n't!! Oh, Yes. Yes, he did.

He implies -in front of my mother no less- that I must be having some sort of freaky, sick anal sex before my arrival in the ER.

If I had my wits about me I would have given him a piece of my mind about professionalism in the workplace and personally UN-confused his teeth.

But, instead, this is what comes out. “Umm... I'm NOT that kind of girl.”

With that, he giggles, picks up a "Tell us how we are doing?" questionnaire, turns to me and says, “Don't forget to fill one of these out before you leave!”

I’m totally flabbergasted. Between the P.A. with whom I still have no idea what her name is and the S&M male nurse, I'm thinking the shot of Demerol is the safest bet so far. 
Notice I say "so far." Wait, it gets better.

I am now supposedly ready for the exam. The PA gets into position and proceeds to tell me to "relax". Yeah, right.
I try; however, I'm almost positive that the entire hospital hears me scream. I'm not proud. She gives me some Nitroglycerin cream after the exam so it will be completely numb. Numbing cream after an examination? Again, What the fuck?? Suddenly I'm not feeling so confident about the medical professionals in this hospital.

She straightens up and she tells me that it is not Hemorrhoids. I say, “It's not? Well, what is it then?” She pauses for a split second to contemplate making something up or just telling me the truth. She decides the latter and tells me she doesn't know. Then follows up that brilliant statement with, "Let me go look it up".

What? C'mon. Are you serious?! What friggan online Physicians’ Assistant degree do you have? What are you going to do? Google the phrase "ASS ON FIRE" and see what pops up?! These are the thoughts that run through my foggy, drug-induced mind. I look at my mother. She rolls her eyes.

This is my luck. I get Ms. Junior PA for a doctor, a masochistic nurse, and now the Demerol is making me nauseous. Beautiful.

Nurse S & M comes cheerfully back into my room and I ask for some water. My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth and I tell him I feel nauseous.

He leaves and immediately comes back with a 'quick dissolving' tablet that is supposed to calm my stomach. It’s funny how quickly people move when you imply that you are going to vomit.

He says, “Here, take this.”
I said, “I need water.”
He says, “It will dissolve in your mouth”.
I said, “But my mouth is dry.”
He returns with, “But you're nauseous.”
I retort with. “But I NEED water.”

We lock eyes and pull a power stare down.

Don't fuck with me, boy. It's 3 AM and I've had just about enough.
His hand is still holding the little chalky pill out to me, while smiling- his crooked teeth are mocking me.

I take the tablet. It sticks to the back of my throat. It doesn't dissolve. It does exactly what I am afraid of. I tell him it's stuck and I need water. Why doesn't anyone listen to me?

He comes back with about one tablespoon of water, sweetly smiles and says, “This is all you're getting.”

Masochistic indeed.

Like a person who's been in the desert for months, I take the water and guzzle it down. Now I can taste the horrendous fruit flavored chalky pill sticking to the back of my throat. I made a face, because Nurse S&M says, “You like that? Fruity, isn't it?”

Damn him and his confused teeth.

So now I'm waiting for Junior PA to come back with her internet discovery. I'm nauseous, have a screaming migraine from the nitroglycerin cream they put on me, and my ass still hurts.

A swift twenty minutes later she comes back saying that the doctor on duty who has not seen me, says that what I may have is called a spastic colon.

"A what?" I say.
“A spastic colon.” she says.
“How do you know that?” I asked. I'm sure she must have Googled it. She then began to explain how she came up with the diagnosis. 
"I spoke to the doctor and described to him what it felt like when I did the examination, and he said immediately, "Oh, that's a spastic colon," said Jr. PA.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Well, she says, “When I had my finger in there, it was – well, please excuse me being graphic - like a Chinese Finger toy. You know, how it grabs on to your finger and you can't get it out?”
Jr. PA now begins to demonstrate by wrapping one finger in the other hand and pulling.

You're kidding me, right?, A Chinese Finger Toy!? Are you fucking kidding me?, I think to myself.  The only way she knew how to explain my medical diagnosis was by referencing an ethnic toy?! Am I being Punk'd? C'mon out Ashton because this shit just does not happen in such an upstanding hospital that I thought I was in.

What do you say to that? Do you respond with questions that reference other ethnic toys that don’t grab your finger like a Chinese finger toy for what your asshole should really feel like?? For example, I could say, “So Doc, you're saying that my ass should feel more like one of those American Water Snake toys? You know; the ones that you try to hold on to but they just slip through your fingers. Like one of those?”

After some discussion about if she is sure she is right, and maybe it is something else, she gives me instructions, any prescriptions that she has written, and before leaving, she closes with the generic, “You will need to follow up with your GP since this is not my area.”

REALLY!? Thanks for clarifying. I would have never guessed.

Nurse S&M hands me my discharge papers and I say to him, “Will she be back?” he gives me a weak smile and says “No.”

With that, I slowly get dressed. But before I go, I use a little plastic pink basin and vomit a chalky paste that stuck to the back of my throat which leaves me with one thought -if only I had more water.


  1. OMG! These are great! LMAO! Are you going to be the next Jen Lancaster? When are the books coming? Single moms everywhere would unite! Let me rephrase MOMs every where would love this stuff! Move on to the trials and tribulations of living with a teenager! Great stuff! Well written! WTG Keep em coming!


  3. Laughing so hard I just pee'd myself!!! Another sign of aging, "spastic bladder". You can't make this stuff up. I agree with comment above, write a book!!!