One thing I learned from the ER

Last Tuesday night I spent 10 hours in the ER for what ended up being a very painful—but hardly fatal burst of a cyst on my ovary. (Apparently these little buggers are fairly common). My experiences in the Emergency Room may someday elicit an entire book of stories within itself. I could write about how the elderly Asian man sitting next to me in the lab-room had what seemed like an excruciating “pregnant” belly, or how the male nurse who took my blood cautioned me that pain in my lower right abdomen could be my appendix and if I were not on the operating table at the time of the unfortunate explosion my chances of survival would be slim to none. There was a nice man who snuck me ice cubes since I hadn’t been allowed water in almost 6 hours and the woman who whispered in my ear, “don’t worry girl, I saw your ultrasound results and you are not pregnant.” Then there was my husband, who was kind enough to not only walk me to the restroom, but also place me on the toilet seat itself.

After 10 hours (8 of which I was forbidden to see my husband), 12 large needles, 6 examines, 2 ultrasounds and one physician’s assistant later...Hubby and I limped our way out of the Long Beach Hospital only to realize that parking was $5 and we had no cash. As I sat myself lop-sided (the butt- shot hurt the worst) in the passenger seat of our rumbling truck waiting for Nick to find an ATM; my eyes fixated on the blurry- florescent-green clock blinking 4:00am. It was then that I realized: Nick put that paper toilet seat cover on differently than I had always done it.

Wait a minute…

I think he’s right!