2010 is upon us.

Please have a safe and happy celebration ringing in the new year.  Pictures to be posted…

…a house full of firemen and not being conscious enough to enjoy it.

I few weeks ago I got the flu.  It was BAD.  When my fever hit 102 and stayed there, I called my PCP and he said it would probably be a very good idea to head over to the ER to get some bloodwork done and make sure my kidneys were functioning well (they tend to be a bit dodgy).

So Sick!

Surprisingly, they brought me in pretty quickly.  I’d taken 2 ibuprofen and 2 aspirin so my fever was all the way down to 101.  They took vials of blood…I can’t remember if they even put an IV in…told me there was trace amounts of blood in my urine and sent me home with Tamaflu and some cough syrup with codeine.

At home, my best friends and next door neighbors told me that I should probably hang out there so they could keep an eye on me.  At some point I had to go to the bathroom so I got up and was VERY woozie.  I looked at Li and said, “oh I’m so wooOOOOoooozy” and because I’m often “not well” she said something along the lines, “well then lay back down.”  I did and laid down and just keep muttering…”woozy, so woooozy, wooOOOOooooozy.”  When I couldn’t wait anymore I stumbled into the bathroom and really that’s the last thing I remember.  From what I’ve been told there was a commotion in the bathroom and Li thought that I was trying to get the garbage can to barf, so she went to get me a bag to barf in since, while sitting on the toilet, the garbage can is a little difficult to get at.  After knocking on the door with no answer and hearing no noise from me she opened the door to find me passed out.

Now, when you think of passed out you might envision me slumped over limp but what she found was me, still on the pot, stretched out and rigid, eyes WIDE open and completely unresponsive.  Later, she told me that she really thought I was dead.  Patting my face, checking my pulse, calling for La she still got no response.  Later, La told me she thought I was having a stroke.  They called 911.

I remember very little from their visit but what stands out most was someone, a guy in a mask, asking me what my name is.  That was a question I knew and readily answered, then I was asked what year it is.  This, I thought, is easy…it’s 1989…but before I could say that, I realized something wasn’t really right.  I had a whole dialogue in my head about what year it was…if it was 1989 how could I be here…if it was 1989 I would remember high school better…I looked around…thinking….wait, 20 it’s 20 (saying twenty) something…2009.  I GOT IT!  Then he asked what day it was…I was exhausted, I answered, “I have no idea.”

Since I’d already been to the ER they didn’t feel it was beneficial to take me back, there was nothing they could do.  I balk at this even though it turned out fine.  I was now WORSE than when I originally went to the ER, isn’t that cause to take you back?  But whatever…

I’ve spared you the gory details, but when I woke up the next morning with a bandaid on my finger I was perplexed and showed it to La, “what is THIS” I said.  She said, “uh…it’s a bandaid,” “well I KNOW that, why is it on my finger?!!”  “You don’t remember last night?”  “Not really.”  At which point, I heard the story as though it happened to someone else.

W E I R D !!