Zpital

April 28, 2013

Last week I ran my roommate to the ER and we ended up staying there for just under 24 hours. It was very emotional, very trying, very I-don’t-ever-want-to-do-this-again-dear-god. I took the rest of the week off to take care of my friend and I haven’t left her side unless it was to run important errands for us. I paid bills, I talked to Human Resources people, I called her family doctor and made her an appointment, I yelled at my manager for telling me she wasn’t my kin why should it matter, I brought her water and food and got her caffeine at 1 AM from the soda machine that stands outside of the tiny trackside mart down the street. I helped her from place to place, I got her clean clothes and towels and tucked her into bed every time she got up, I brought her orange juice and kept her water bottle filled and brought her entertainment and kept her from being bored. My friend needed my help this week, and I was there to give it.

Damn it.

My tax check came in during all of this, thank goodness, because my paycheck will be utter shit now. And after all of that, after picking up cigarettes and putting them back down again (I’m on day two without smokes, go me) and after missing important doses of my medication and bla bla bla bla, I spent $100 on a big bag of funky green reefer, damn it.

Everything is real cool. I am so chill. 

Things are smooth now. No hurts, no sores, no imperfections in two CAT scans and a lot of bloodwork and 24 hour hospital observation. We’re just recovering now. Whew.