My Hospital Trip

Some random guy-definitely not me!

It happened late Wednesday night. I felt sick, it was around midnight. I got up and went to the bathroom, I found myself wondering which end to point at the toilet. "This is a bad situation", I thought. I decided to have a seat, and grab the waste basket. I was in intense pain, that made my cry out and I began to sweat profusely. This lasted for quite a while. It must be food poisoning, I reasoned to myself. I went to bed and in the morning, of course felt sick again, I still had intense intestinal pain and this time I noticed blood. Quite a bit of it, and an hour later, I had to go again, this time...all blood. I was scared. I called my Mom and told her about what was going on. I'd had dinner with my parents and wanted to find out if they felt sick too.

My sister has Crohn's disease, so of course my mother had me diagnosed with that in about 3 minutes. I was more of the wait and see, because I'm not dead yet school of thought. I made it through the rest of the day, but the next morning, I felt like dying. Mom called to see how I was, and when I told her, the conversation went like this...

Mom: I'm coming to get you and you're going to the hospital. This is nothing to screw around with, you could die.

Me: No, I don't want to go today...

Mom: What day are you going to want to go?

Me: (chuckling painfully) Never...Maybe I just need antibiotics.

Mom: You don't know that. You have to go to the hospital. I'm coming to get you!

Me: At least give me some time to prepare, and pay some bills and call people I have dealings with in the next couple of days...how about after lunch, say, 1:00?

Mom: I'll see you at one. Pack a bag, they are going to admit you. We'll take care of the dogs.

Okay, this seems manageable, that's what you're thinking right now...right? All except for one teeny tiny little detail. I have an unreasonable fear of hospitals and doctors, and, well...all things medical. I'm the polar opposite of a hypochondriac, I never feel sick, or if I do, I don't believe it hard enough to make it go away. Something literally has to fall off my body, for me to admit there's a problem, and if I could, I'd just staple it back on, rather than go see someone about it.

One of my greatest fears is being in the hospital to have my tonsils out, and waking up to find one of my legs amputated. I do not have a great deal of faith in medical professionals, and I have never ever had surgery, or been admitted to a hospital. The very idea of this sends me into a full fledged panic.

Maybe a cocktail or two with lunch, maybe I could just hide, or leave until my mother goes away.

These all seem reasonable to me. I begin to make phone calls and cancellations, and explain that I'm going to the hospital, which sounds like a death sentence to me every time I say it, "Yeah, I'm going to the gallows in a couple of hours, so...I can't make our appointment tomorrow."

I decide to go ultimately, because the pain is stronger than the fear. We get to the emergency room and before too long, I am in an examination room. I am told to remove all of my clothing and put on the gown. The dreaded gown, with the opening in the back. The gown that you see on terminally ill people with tubes and machines hooked up to them, that gown. I tell my story to several people and am forced to answer very detailed questions about my poo. This too, is painful. I get to enjoy a rectal exam, and they take blood, I am poked and prodded, my vitals are being taken repeatedly, and then they bring me a large container of orange fluid. I'm told to drink 8oz of this every 15 minutes over the next hour and half, and then they'll come get me for a cat-scan. They also leave me a plastic specimen container called a hat, that they'd like me to fill. I am delighted with the request but don't seem to be able to comply, not then, and not for my entire stay.

I was in the little room for 8 hours. After the cat-scan the doctor came and told me it was infectious colitis, and they were going to admit me. They did not yet know what caused it, but seven inches of my intestines were inflamed. They put me on an IV, and know I was one of those people wandering around in a gown with a metal coat rack on wheels that has bags of goop hanging off it that are attached by tubes to your arm. It's like a nightmare. I feel like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone. After the Doctor leaves, I begin to cry. My mom hugs me and tells me it'll be alright. I feel like a total baby. They take me to my room, and I am relieved to find that it's empty. It's just me, thank god!

I was moved into my room at 10:00pm. They took my vitals, I met the nurse, met the doctor, they did an assessment, hooked me up to more hanging goo, and promised me something for the pain, and something to help me sleep. I needed both. At 11:00 there was a shift change, so they took my vitals, did an assessment, I met the new nurse, and the new doctor, I asked for the meds for pain and sleep, they had to check...I asked a few more times, and finally at 1:30am they brought me the pills. I got to sleep at around 2:00am. At 4:30am they wheeled in my room-mate. A Hispanic woman who seemed to be in great pain. They turned on all the lights, they talked in tones you'd expect to hear outside, not in tones one would want in a room where someone is trying to sleep. There were about 900 people setting her up and she was moaning and groaning loudly and chanting "dios mio". I felt sorry for her, yes, but I wanted to sleep...

I got back to sleep at around 5:00am, but was awakened by a screaming baby in the room across the hall a half-hour later. I got up and wheeled my coat rack over to shut the door which was left wide open with all the lights and noises of the non-stop busy hallway flooding in.

I dozed off again just in time for a someone to wake me up so they could take more blood. That was at 6:00am. I hoped to sleep a while longer when my room-mate began to hurl, and in a very noisy way. I cannot hear this without joining in, kind of like yawning, so I quickly grabbed my ipod and jammed it in my ears cranking the volume to avert the disaster. Then more vitals, another assessment, more new staff...they brought me a menu, and wanted me to choose my meals for the next couple of days. I filled it all out, and someone came around to collect it. The doctor (a specialist) came in to examine me, and he told me about the possibilities and probabilities. They brought me a liquid lunch, said the doctor had put me on a liquid diet, so I drank my meals and didn't get any of the food I had carefully selected earlier.

Some friends came to visit me, and by that time I was unfettered, so we went for a walk around the hospital. I was in my own pajamas by this time. When I returned my extremely noisy room-mate was being relocated. Yahooo...peace. They left, and then around dinner time some more friends stopped in. They were on their way out to dinner, and felt bad when they saw my unappetizing tray of liquids. So did I.

I was feeling a lot better, and didn't have much pain anymore, but I made sure I got my sleeping pill before the shift change. I was exhausted. I shut the door and went to sleep, only to get another room-mate at 1:30am. This one was an older woman named Adelaide, but her friends called her Babs, who'd fallen and broken her hip. I officially met her the next morning, and I really liked her. She was quite a character, very funny and a great attitude. The nurses assistants were kind of ignoring her, so I helped her with some tasks, brushing her teeth, eating breakfast, answering the phone. When they told me I could go, she begged me not to.

"I can take you with me, but I've got to go!" I said smiling. It was Mother's Day. I made sure she had people coming to see her, and I got a ride home from some friends. I drove to my parent's house to make my mom dinner and collect my babies (Cody and Winston).

My visit to the hospital was not as bad as I thought it would be in some ways, and much worse than I thought in others. All in all, I'd have been glad to skip it altogether.

My Top Ten Sci-fi Women of All Time...

Creampuff posted her top 10 (8) women of Sci-fi, and needed suggestion for the last two, I found so many I liked, that she didn't have, that I decided to just do my own top 10. I tend to like the kick-assier women, so here they are in no particular order...

1) Kristianna Loken. This should come as no surprise, I have already discussed my Kristianna-crush in great detail. She has a way about her that says, "yeah, I could totally kick your ass, but then again, I might just kiss you."

2) Sharon Stone. Sci-fi or otherwise, Sharon is an obvious favorite. Here she is at forty, looking like she's about to pounce! Are you feeling lucky?

3) Halle Berry. Isn't it obvious?

4. Lucy Liu. Looks like a flower but she stings like a bee... She bangs!

5) Jessica Alba. No Sci-fi's sexiest list is complete without Jessica, leaving her out would really chap my ass! She is amazing, and gorgeous.

6) Linda Hamilton. Yeah, it's the arms, but the eyes, lips, and jaw line aren't doing her any harm either. Don't try sneaking up on her.

7) Milla Jojovich. If you're already dead she'll dispatch you with speed and style. I'm not already dead, but she kills me! She's dead sexy baby.

8) Uma Thurman. She slices and dices, she flips and spins, the way she moves, like a graceful cat, she'll kick your ass, and hand you your hat. Don't let her see you swoon, she'll know you think she hung the moon.

9) Lexa Doig. Hello. Lexa is from Ontario, and is on the Sci-fi show Andromeda. Lexa is short for Alexandra. She's not as well known as the others, but just look at that tummy!

10) Kierra Knightley. She's got more fight than a bag full of kittens, and she's pretty hot, in a Disney kind of way.

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Honorable Mention

Pink. She rocks! She's Pink! I love her music, and she can hold her own in mid-evil cool chick gear too, so there you go.

Natural Disasters

There are many types of "natural disasters".

There's the "shart", for those of you who haven't seen "Along Came Polly" it's when you think you're going to fart, but you shit a little.

There's that skin flap that forms under a woman's arms sometime in her 50's usually.

There's showing up at a formal event in the same outfit as a woman your friends all refer to as "the ho-bag".

But the natural disasters I'm writing about are the kind involving weather, and the earth. When someone tells me about a disaster, I find it difficult to not want to compete with them for who's lived through the worst natural disaster. I'm not sure my desire to win this particular competition is natural, or healthy, or smart.

And although it is true that many people have lived through disasters much worse than my best or worst, it is possible that I could still win the coveted "Most Freaked Out By a Natural Disaster Award". The awards ceremony for this particular award is fairly small and low key, and currently it is not being televised. The MFOBANDA nominees are often a rag-tag bunch, straggling along a tan carpet into the school auditorium , which was randomly chosen out of a dirty hat for that year's event. They are often hurt, injured, shell shocked, flinching and wincing as they pass by the disposable camera purchased to record the ceremony for posterity.

You see, about nine months after moving to L.A. I had found my own apartment. It was a small studio apartment. It had one large room, and a small kitchen. A hallway went around a corner to the bathroom, and in that hallway was a built in dresser, and vanity. The living room had a Murphy bed tucked behind a pair of large doors. I had furnished the whole thing with "found" furniture, which I cleaned up and improved as much as I could, and things that had been given to me by various people I'd met who felt pity for me. I was very proud of the fact that I had a pretty nice set up, and hadn't spent any money other than a couple bucks on a few yards of fabric to cover a chair.
But I digress. In the middle of the night, I think it was around 4:00am on January 17th, 1994 the Northridge Earthquake struck L.A. This was my first earthquake and it was a pretty big one. I was awakened by the sensation on laying in the bed of a pick-up truck as it flew down a bumpy dirt road. It was pitch dark, it was loud, I was naked! Everything was falling all around me, things were smashing and breaking. It went on for about 20 seconds, which felt like an hour. When the walls and the ceiling and floor stopped moving, it was still pitch dark. Car alarms were going off everywhere, people were outside the building talking in excited and frightened tones. I was afraid to get off the bed, I'd heard things breaking, I had bare feet. I slowly carefully lowered my feet to floor and felt each step before taking it to the light switch. No power, I picked up the phone, no phone. I needed to find clothes and get dressed and find out what I'm supposed to do! I started to panic, because my apartment was on the ground floor, and from the side of the building someone could easily break a window and step right in, and there I was naked, startled, no way to call the police, no lights, no one else in the building to here me scream. jThe thought of this nearly paralyzed me with fear. It sounded like everyone was outside. I thought I should be out there too. I had some candles, I lit a lighter to find them, and thank god I didn't blow up.

You should never light a match after an earthquake, gas pipes break or leak, but I didn't know. I didn't know how to survive here, it hadn't occurred to me before. I finally got some candles lit and looked around at the destruction. I was in disbelief! Cabinets opened and emptied themselves, even the hall closet threw up all over the place blocking the door. I found clothes and it took me a while but I found shoes too. I moved the pile of crap blocking the door and exited the building. Everyone was out in front of the building telling their story. The whole neighborhood was out there talking to each other and assessing the damage, in L.A. neighbors talking is a strange sight indeed.

There were many aftershocks, smaller but still disturbing earthquakes that followed the initial one. Every one of these made me feel a little sick, and scared. You never want to see a building you're standing in move the way a building moves during an earthquake. After a couple of weeks, the aftershocks were getting very small and not that unsettling. I had a very large avocado tree outside my apartment window, and when we had an aftershock I would run outside and pick up the avocados. I'd call my friend and say, aftershock! I'm making guacamole for the game. I put a big nail by the door and hung my jeans with the wallet in the pocket and a t-shirt on it. I put a pair of shoes just below them on the floor so I could find everything in the dark. i had management fix the closet door so it would latch properly and felt a little more prepared, but shortly after that was when the anxiety attacks started.

I would be on the freeway and traffic would slow to a stop and I'd be sitting their, one car locked in like a puzzle piece with thousands of other cars just sitting there, stuck no way to get out....STUCK. I would start pulling at my clothes because I couldn't breathe and they felt tight around my neck, but they weren't. This feeling, this panic began to extend to any situation where I felt unable to move, being in a large crowd where it was difficult to move or raise my arms, on a bus with people sandwiching me in, anything like that.

You never forget your first earthquake! You never know what will break inside you when you are truly shaken.

MFOBANDA acceptance speech:

First of all, I'd like to thank all the slightly less freaked out people without whom this award would not be mine. I'd like to thank the mental health professionals I've come in contact with for nominating me. Id like to thank the pharmaceutical companies for being there when I needed them, and I'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps who know what I'm talking about!

Playing to Win

Having recently met someone on line who's distance away from me (great), is about equal to my level of interest in her, I have set about the difficult task of trying to figure how to proceed.

The options seem to be:

Thank her for the enchanting email moments, and look for something sharp to throw myself on.

Sell everything netting a huge loss, since home prices have dropped steadily since I bought mine, and show up homeless and penniless on her doorstep.

Win the lottery and fly to her, for, I don't know...maybe three days. See how things go. If they are as good in real life, as they are in glued-to-my-laptop-life, we can do what we want. I 've got millions!

If you're like me, you like the third option best! My dad always says, "Your chances of a freight train falling on your head while you're in the shower are better than your chances of hitting it big in the lottery". I say, good things can happen just as easily as bad things, and people do win. I'm a people, why not me? So I bought three tickets last night. The mega-millions was up to 26 million. I figured I could squeak by on that, so I spent three dollars on a dream. The clerk gave me three separate tickets, instead of 3 picks on one ticket. He said he thought it improved my chances. At least he was on my side! I took that as a good omen. Yep, this time I think I might really win. This could be the one, I can feel it.

They had the drawing last night, and this morning on my way to work I remembered I had those three little tickets in my wallet. I'll check later I thought, because I probably won, and I really do have to finish this job before I go gallivanting off. I'll check later, I don't need the distraction when I'm trying to frame in a doorway. I worked all day, just like one of the common folk, and had dinner with my parents. I didn't really think about the tickets I had tucked away. Tickets, or at least one ticket to a new life, one where I can still build furniture if I want to, but I can do it with all the best tools (like Norm on Old Yankee Workshop) and in a spacious well lit workshop in...Tuscany! When I go, I go big!

I drove home like I always do, singing at the top of my lungs. When I got home I fed the dogs, caught up on all my blog reading, checked my email and then I thought, Hmmm, I should check those tickets! I found the website for the Mega-Millions, I don't have it bookmarked because I only buy lottery tickets 3 maybe four times a year. I got the tickets and put on my glasses, here we go...out of all three tickets, one matching number. Well...maybe next time, why do I think so? I have no idea, and no plans to start wearing my hard-hat in the shower either.

Are You This Bored?

While I am busy trying to come up with a wonderfully witty and entertaining story for my blog, I took this test and these are my results. I stole this test from theweyrd1 at Keen Observer of the Human Condition.
She's a ring finger, so she won't mind. We're like this (tries to desperately to wrap pinky and ring finger around each other).

You Are a Pinky

You are fiercely independent, and possibly downright weird. A great communicator, you can get along with almost anyone. You are kind and sympathetic. You support all your friends - and love them for who they are. You get along well with: The Ring Finger Stay away from: The Thumb

What Finger Are You?

A Kind Stranger

You come to me shrouded in darkness and pain

The mystery of you fills my head

You shed a magical light that that clearly shows

An innocent and beautiful soul,

But it's a light that a privileged few can see.

That light feels like it's blinding, to me

You don't even know it's there

You sit in the darkness not realizing,

That through miles and miles of cyberspace

I can, and do, touch your sweet face

I taste your tears, I feel your fears,

I reach for you with all my heart

You, still huddled in the dark

I can't make it go away, your pain, my need

They are content to stay

You cannot feel me, but you know I'm there

Such little comfort, wondering why I care

You have your life, and I have mine

And though our paths may never cross

I see your light, and know the truth

Of how the woman you'd become

Was slowly strangled

In her youth.

April Fool's Day 1993: Conclusion

As I drove by the L.A. skyline all light up, I felt so excited. This is where I would begin a new life. Start fresh, reinvent myself. It was about 10pm. I drove out route 10 towards the coast. When I got to Westchester, I called Jeff, the owner of the house I had arranged to rent a room in, as he had instructed me to. I waited at a Carl's Junior (a fast food joint like Burger King) for him. He showed up and said he has some things to talk to me about before we went to the house. I had Johnny, so we drove to the house, dropped off my truck and Johnny, then went to a small nearby women's bar. We sat at the bar and he bought me a beer.

He said, "Since I talked to you, we've had another house guest move in, his name is Joel, he is renting the other room and he has aids. I didn't want you to get there and be surprised."

I thought it was very nice of him to tell me, but not really necessary. This meant I would be living in a house with three gay men, Jeff, his lover Steve, and Joel. I told him I was fine with that, and thanked him for his desire to make sure I wouldn't be upset.

"And one more thing, there's another guy, Chuck, who's sleeping on the couch in the living room. He'll only be there for the month. It's just temporary." His eyes narrowed as he looked at me to see what my reaction would be.

"Okay." I said, looking around at the first few California lesbians I'd seen. I met a woman sitting at the bar. She was very nice and told me her girlfriend was in a band, and they would be playing at the Palms, a lesbian bar in West Hollywood, on Friday night if I wanted to come. I thought it might be nice, and said I would try.

Jeff and I went to the house, I met everyone, got a tour of the house, and went to my room for a good night's sleep. The next morning, I opened my eyes, looked out the window, and it was a beautiful day. Blue skies, the sun was shinning, it was warm, but not humid, perfect. I walked to the kitchen grinning. "What a beautiful day!" I exclaimed.

"You'll get used to it." Jeff said in a matter of fact tone.

"I'm going the beach to roller blade on the bike path." I said triumphantly, and Steve wanted to go with me. At the beach, on that perfect day, I looked around at the beauty of it all and wondered two things, What took me so long to get here?...and, Why doesn't everyone live here?

It turned out Steve was Jeff's lover more out of necessity than love. It gave him a roof over his head and food etc. but he was bi-sexual, and took a shine to me right away. I made it plain, I was not bi-sexual, and not interested in him at all! He continued to be creepy around me until I finally moved out, about two months later.

My Friday night at the Palms was insane. I'd been in L.A. less than a week, I was sitting in the outside patio of a fantastic bar, meeting people, listening to live music, and in walks kd Lang and her entourage, to see the band. Unbelievable, I almost fell off my stool. I didn't ask for, but was given three phone numbers that night, each woman, beautiful, and I was amazed.

The second of those three that I went out with, turned out to be my first girlfriend in California. I got myself into therapy, with a therapist that worked on a sliding scale through the Gay and Lesbian Center, and really did reinvent myself.

Moving to California on what seemed like a whim at the time, turned out to be the best decision I've ever made. As a result, I am a much better human than I was when I embarked on that journey, and my life is so much richer for it.