As they're loading me onto the stretcher, I suddenly remember that I have twins in the day care downstairs. Here are the thoughts that flowed through my head:
Well, what happens now? I can't load the twins into the ambulance, right? Damn...Husband's going to have to come and get them before meeting up with me.
Where the hell are my car keys? Oh, right...in my yoga bag. Damn...need my wallet too. Where the hell is that? Oh, right...it's in a locker downstairs. Shit! I just gave my combination to a virtual stranger.
Oh, who cares anyway? What are they going to steal? Two toddler bathing suits and my last two swim diapers...wait, those are expensive. Holy shit...my knee hurts! Let's get out of here.
What? Husband is calling my cell phone...let me just pick up this call in the midst of being wheeled out of the health club...sure, now I look like a Housewife of NJ, right? On a stretcher, in my workout clothes, yakking on my cell phone...what a loser. Why is he asking me questions? Who cares what hospital? Who cares where my bags will be? Who cares if I'm okay??? I don't know anything right now...in pain...must go to hospital (granted, after the fact, I realized just how relevant these questions were).
Why are people waving to me? Fuckers! Don't wave you skinny running bitch, I'll hex you right off that treadmill...on your cute little chin, you wiseass!!! (apparently, I thought I had special powers after my head spun around from the amount of pain I was in).
Crap...I don't have shoes.
Where the hell are my car keys? Oh, right...in my yoga bag. Damn...need my wallet too. Where the hell is that? Oh, right...it's in a locker downstairs. Shit! I just gave my combination to a virtual stranger.
Oh, who cares anyway? What are they going to steal? Two toddler bathing suits and my last two swim diapers...wait, those are expensive. Holy shit...my knee hurts! Let's get out of here.
What? Husband is calling my cell phone...let me just pick up this call in the midst of being wheeled out of the health club...sure, now I look like a Housewife of NJ, right? On a stretcher, in my workout clothes, yakking on my cell phone...what a loser. Why is he asking me questions? Who cares what hospital? Who cares where my bags will be? Who cares if I'm okay??? I don't know anything right now...in pain...must go to hospital (granted, after the fact, I realized just how relevant these questions were).
Why are people waving to me? Fuckers! Don't wave you skinny running bitch, I'll hex you right off that treadmill...on your cute little chin, you wiseass!!! (apparently, I thought I had special powers after my head spun around from the amount of pain I was in).
Crap...I don't have shoes.
So, at the completion of me writhing around and screaming in pain (click there to see yesterday's post), and taking the phone call from Husband, the EMTs thought it was a good idea to transport me to the hospital. Of course, they don't get the ambulance doors closed when I'm updating my status on FB...what a loser. You're 36, asshat, get off FB!!!
I made a few texts/calls while I was in the ambulance. The whole time, the EMT who saved my knee is holding on to me b/c apparently we took the most windy (that's whine-dy, not the "windy" that means breezy) route to the hospital. He makes a joke that he's not getting fresh with me and I think to myself, "Dude, you just saved my knee and made me look more like a normal person and less like The Exorcist...if you want to cop a feel, this is the time to do it."
Do you ever kind of want to try a restaurant b/c you're intrigued, but you're still not really sure? Then you finally eat there and you're like, "yeah...that won't be happening again...my instincts were right to stay away." Yeah...that's what going to this hospital was like.
We finally get there, the EMT removes his ever so protective hands from me, and they wheel me over this stupid mat with lot of bumps. Kind of like the rumble strips you hit when slowing down for a toll...yeah...but we were going like one mile per hour. It was like a bouncy house. Who puts that kind of rug in an entry for HURT people???
Hello, Intake Nurse! Isn't that a lovely little (by little, I mean enormous) sore you have on your lip...can't stop staring...can't look away...have to look away...the sore is gross. Anyway, I hear her ask the EMT what my pain was when he arrived and he says, "definitely a 20 out of 10...I thought she was going to rip my face off." I must have been pretty bad off.
It's at this point, that I realize that I have a sports bra on with a very thin t-shirt on top of that...and this hospital feels like Antarctica. I'm seriously going to poke someone's eyes out with my nipples. I wonder if my nurse (who is like 12 by the way) can handle that kind of emergency!
Room 32...here I come!
More later...I gotta go cook dinner b/c Husband took the Crazies to the pool. He rocks!
