mydarlingcurse.com

Once I was in the ambulance and strapped down that’s when I decided to find the humor in the situation. Seeing Cedar Rapids backwards is quite an experience. I was saying things like “I never want to see Hardee’s from this view again. Fuck Cedar Rapids. I’m never coming back down here agian.” The EMT, a great burly bald biker dude named Derek, was cracking up. And said, “You don’t seem like you’re having heart trouble.” “That’s because I’m NOT HAVING A FUCKING HEART ATTACK! YOU PEOPLE ARE GOING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK!”
Then he’d chuckle and say, “Geez, your BP (blood pressure) totally spiked there, you were like 398 over 172.”
“Isn’t that clinically impossible?”
“Yeah, basically if it were that high you *would* be having a heart attack.”
“Goddammit!”

All kidding aside, it was Derek who really listened to me when I told him my symptoms and family history. He asked about my pain and then said, “Well, I could give you some morphine, but if it is your heart….”
“It’s not my fucking heart!”
“Did they give you Nitro?”
“Yes, and it didn’t do anything.”
“Do you have a headache from it?”
“No, not at all.”
“Yeah, it’s not your heart.”
“Thank you!”

Then we just started chatting. To get my BP down - since it was pretty high, being all pissed off and in an ambulance and all. What books we were reading, and then for some reason he started talking about the floods. I had heard that things were bad. Aunt Iowa and the kids were sandbagging for a few days, and both of the their employers closed down for a few days. But I hadn’t talked to anyone who was in the shit. Earlier that day, I drove through where some of the worst damage was. It was a ghost town. There were still piles of debris on curbs and in yards. Home boarded up or just abandoned. But it’s easy to let those images slip away, but when Derek started talking about it, it was just about the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

Derek said that it was basically the worst day of his life. People would call and they wouldn’t be able to get to them. Or people would call and say they were having chest pains and Derek would look around and their house and everything they own would be gone. Floods rarely happen in the nice parts of town, you know? He said that about 25% of the city’s population was just gone. People lost their jobs and their homes, or their business and their home and just vanished. There isn’t any record of them. They aren’t missing, they are just gone. It’s always haunting when you see a big tough guy clear his throat when he’s talking about something really painful. I told him I thought this was the best ambulance ride I’ve ever had and it was all because of him. That made him laugh.

Derek wheeled me into the Emergency Room and updated the nurses and stuff, then he took my hand and told me I’d be okay and I said Thanks, take care. And that was it, he was gone. The nurse that I had in the ER was a goofy looking guy named Ben who was actually part of the airlift crew, so he was wearing a pilot’s uniform. Then there was HotDoc, but he was a little too hyper for my tastes. They all told me the same thing. They need to rule out my heart and lungs. So again with the EKG and then I went somewhere (wheeled in a bed on oxygen) for X-rays. The pain never really went away. When they wheeled me back and Ben asked how I was doing, I just said, it hurts. Ben, glorious Ben and his magic morphine needle. Aaahhhh!
EKG and chest X-Ray normal, natch. Now up to ultrasound. Aunt Iowa and I were like, finally!

Let me tell you something, those stones lit up that sonogram like diamonds. It was like my gall bladder was completely full. Aunt Iowa was like, yep there they are. And I said, wait a minute now, that could be cancer, hahaha. And the Tech Chick doing the ultrasound kinda smiled. And I said, she can’t tell us what she sees, she has to wait for the Radiologist. The Tech Chick smiled and said, yeah that’s right, but (whispering) they’re exactly what you think they are. Meaning stones, not cancer.

So doped up and glad that it wasn’t really serious, I was wheeled back to the ER. That’s when I saw the Superman stickers. I pointed and said, grab a shitload of those Superman stickers for me, my BFF back home loves him! Then I saw the Dora stickers. Dora, OMG, my daughter loves Dora, grab a buncha them too, puhleeeeeeease. I’m hilarious on morphine! Back to my ER room to wait in morphine bliss.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock

HotDoc pokes his head in and says, yep it’s your gall bladder! But here’s the thing, you also have a blockage - a stone - blocking your common bile duct. So we need to remove that, that’s what’s causing all the pain. So we’ll remove the blockage first and then take your gall bladder out. Ok great, says I, when can we schedule that? Then I made a move to get up. Oh, no. You aren’t going anywhere. We’re getting a room for your upstairs and we’ll remove the blockage in the morning. Can’t I go home? No, you’re stuck here so we can control the pain and if another stone migrates, it’s just better if you are here.

And again, I panicked. I kissed Boo goodbye five hours ago, told her I’d be back in a bit. And I wasn’t coming back. I begged HotDoc to let me go home, I’d be back first thing in the morning. I was from out of town and just visiting and my daughter…. Nothing doin’. I was being admitted, right then and there. The admitting nurse came in a few minutes later. Aunt Iowa did a great job of telling me that Boo doesn’t understand abandonment, she was having a great time eating junk and playing Wii. And Hubbin and The Buns and Milo were all back in Minneapolis. I didn’t want to have surgery without him there. Logistically, it was a nightmare. And Aunt Iowa was a champ, because I was beginning to break down.

Then, a big bald head pops in. Derek, the EMT, off his shift back to check on me. “Whaddya still doing here?” he boomed. I gave him the lowdown and he sat next to me for a few minutes, telling me it was a piece of cake surgery, I’d be fine. Then, and I still can’t believe it, he said, I’m sorry I didn’t give you any morphine in the truck, I really could have helped and I didn’t. He’d done so much to make my first and hopefully only ambulance ride completely memorable and unhorrible. And here he was kicking himself that he hadn’t given me morphine. Such a great guy.

First things first, yes I’m feeling much better. Thank you! Thank you to everyone who has sent me messages and good thoughts and prayers and good jou jou. It all works! Thank you, thank you thank you!

So here’s how it all went down.

During the last few weeks I’ve had several episodes in the middle of the night where I wake up in pain and think I’m having a heart attack. No lie! The first time it happened I thought I was going to die. The pain was right under my sternum and radiated up into my shoulders. Tums didn’t help, stretching, deep breathing, trying to do to the bathroom, aspirin….nothing worked, nothing helped. I just had to ride it out for two or three hours then collapse exhausted and shaken and vow I’d never eat…whatever…again.

Boo had last week off, so just she and I went down to visit Aunt Iowa. We had tons of fun things planned. I got down there Thursday night, had a glass or two of wine and then put Boo to bed. I went down around 10:30-11 to go to sleep and before I got to sleep another one of these attacks happened. I was literally writhing on the floor praying for it all to end, trying to control the nausea, trying to calm the shakes and the sweats, and again nothing worked until it just stopped on it’s own.

I told Auntie Iowa about it in the morning, because I still had a little pain up near my sternum. She instantly knew what it was. “That’s your gall bladder, we’ve all had ours removed. Your Mom (deceased), Aunt Mo (deceased), Grandpa (deceased) and Gram (also deceased). I had mine out about eight years ago. You really need to have that looked at. Call your doctor.”
So I called my GP and made an appointment for today. So throughout that Friday - last Friday, down in Iowa - I kept having the pain. If the episode at night was an 8 out of 10 on the pain scale the pain during the day was more like a 4 out of 10. I was driving and talking and we had lunch. But I never really felt right. When we got home, around 2:30-3:00pm that day Aunt Iowa suggested that I go into Urgent Care, at least they could diagnose the problem and give me pain meds so the weekend wouldn’t be ruined. “Good idea” I said. So I hugged and kissed Boo goodbye and told her I’d be right back, that I was going to the doctor but I’d be home soon so we could play Wii. I didn’t see her again for two days.

That killed me.

I constantly beat myself about that over and over again, and it always brought me to tears. This was sometimes mistaken for being in pain or stressed out about the situation. But that’s not true. I was heartbroken and felt that I had abandoned her. Because she believed me that I was coming back and I didn’t.

At Urgent Care, some old timey doctor took the location of my pain more seriously than the symptoms of my pain and convinced himself that I was having heart trouble. They did an EKG and that was normal, of course. And because we had so many fun things planned, Aunt Iowa was going to swing by and get Boo’s car seat (still in my car) so they could go out while I waited at Urgent Care. When Aunt Iowa showed up she could tell things weren’t right and she decided to stay with me until they figured it all out. The old timey doc, still convinced I was having heart trouble recommended that I go straight to the hospital, and by straight to the hospital he meant in an ambulance. Aunt Iowa was like, no, no I’ll drive her. And Old Timey Doc was all - we”ll if something happened en route, you’d never forgive yourself. And now I start to think, Holy Shit, this is serious. I *am* probably having a heart attack. I *am* probably going to die. And I’ll never see my sweet children again.
Then I panicked.

After much debate - and I wouldn’t have made this choice for myself - I went to the hospital in an ambulance. And they don’t just call the ambulance company and say, send someone over. No they call 911 and the fire truck shows up and the lights flash and everything. They gave me nitroglycerine because Old Timey Doc told them it was my heart. It wasn’t my heart. But no one would believe me.

Once I was strapped, seriously, strapped down on the gurney and in the back of the ambulance my hilarious defense mechanism took over. Thankfully, I had the best EMT dude in the world. More on him tomorrow.

I’m really worn out and I’m over doing it. I’m not supposed to pick up the kids and I do - a lot. I’m supposed to take it easy, but I went shopping at Cub and Target today. I feel like the walking dead.

I only saw one women with ashes on her forehead today. Weird.

I am giving up booze for Lent. I know! I’ll be a Lifetimemovieish completely different person by Easter Sunday. I’m also giving up fast food. For some reason, having my gall bladder out…..that one just makes sense.

More later. Promise!

A few things I need to get down and I’ll elaborate on them later:

- Hilarious EMT guy
- Gall Bladder removal
- Additions to the DML - Hello Mr. Brody (2009) and the Ex-English Teacher
- Drug induced dreams involving cocktails with my Mom and the Perkins Pie Display.
- The Zolfran Nazi

Wesley the Owl - This was an impulse buy at Barnes and Noble. It has a cute fluffy, white owlet on the cover….what’s not to love. I instantly remembered reading The Good Good Pig last year. Not surprisingly Sy Montgomery has a one line review on the back of the book.

Watchmen - Bookclub Bitches are coming back with a vengeance yo! No wait, that’s not right….Bookclub Bitches are coming back from hiatus yo!

The Gargoyle - The appeal of this tome has yet to reveal itself to me, I’m going to stop at 230 pages (about halfway) if a real gargoyle doesn’t show up and start eating people and falling in love with the jail-bait hooker with syphilis.

I vaguely remember reading a review of Julia Leigh’s Disquiet and I stopped at the words “reads like an Edward Gorey novella”. I threw the review far away from myself and then ordered the book. I love Edward Gorey. I have a soft, squishy spot for the witty and the macabre. Walter liked playing games, but because he was missing three fingers on his right hand, the children only played “Where is Thumbkin?”

Reading a book, no matter how long, from beginning to end is a problem for me, I have two kids under four years old and a growing Hulu.com addiction (I surrender to you Alec Baldwin!). So getting back to reading “grown-up” books seemed a bit daunting. And to my surprise, Ms. Leigh tells her tale beautifully in a deft 128 pages.

The story begins with a woman, Olivia, trying to get back on to her mother’s celestial estate in France. She has a broken arm and two children in tow. “I am murdered”, she says. He arrival is quickly followed by that of her brother, Marcus and his wife, Sophie, home from the hospital after giving birth. Sophie clutches the bundle to her constantly as Marcus informs the family that the baby was stillborn. The family then falls into a familiar pattern, hauntingly teetering on utter collapse. Sophie carries the bundle with her everywhere in a wicker bassinet. Marcus lines the freezer with a pink satin dress so the baby is comfortable when it “sleeps”. It’s grotesque and utterly desperate.

Olivia and her children are coping with their flight from an abusive father. Everyone keeps the other at arms length. But the delicate pattern continues as the children visit their Grandmother one evening to say goodnight, only the find the old lady’s three room suite littered with chicken bones and cats. Olivia’s chidlren, Andy and Lucy, float through the story like small ghosts of their former selves, trying to play and be normal, but how could they when they see their freshly bruised mother sprawled drunk with her brother, or watch as their aunt feeds the dead baby soup. As they all dabble in their own extremes, it seems as though none of them know what to do next, none of them know how to help the others.

In stories like this, so bogged down with sadness, salvation always seems to come with a high price. Thankfully Olivia has enough with her to pay that bill.

Disquiet, while short and to the point, is also subtle and insightful. And while everything can be refused, there are some things that cannot be repressed. This is the type of story that gnaws away at you. It’s the scary, gory scene you slam your eyes shut for, yet the thin line of light breaks through and you can’t help but to slowly open one eye and watch in wonder and horror.

When you live your life on the edge of utter surrender to banality it seems like any little thing can push you over the edge. Last night after I made dinner I made a comment to Hubbin about one of the school marms inviting me and Boo over to play during their upcoming break. Then I gathered up the dishes, brought them over to the sink and let the dog out. And then my day was over. Those actions symbolized the end of my daily duties as Mom and housewife. I felt it, like a shrill shift whistle going off in my head. I made some sound of disgust when I realized what had just happened. This noise did not go unnoticed by Hubbin and when he questioned me about it I simply widened my eyes, sugar coated my sarcasm and asked “How was dinner? Is there anything else I can get you? Golly I’m looking forward to Boo having a playdate! Oh, and here is the grocery list! I wish we lived in Stepford.”

Thankfully Hubbin got the point and we went out to Circut City and bought a bunch of DVD’s on sale. Hello Alien Quadrilogy!

The Buns had a shit night last night. Up every two to three hours with that whiny fussy voice that shreds a parents last nerve. Hubbin and I took shifts. And now my day is fucked. I had plans this morning that I’m going to have to cancel because for some damn reason my son has been literally bouncing off the walls since 4:45AM. I hate days like this. Days when I try to get a little life in for myself, something that I really want to do and now I have to sacrifice what I want for what my child needs. It’s the classic paradox (and that probably isn’t the right word here) of parenting. He’s going to be tired and fussy all day and his schedule is going to be way off and that’s going to make me tired and impatient.

On the plus side, it’s raining and the soft patter on rain on the roof and walls calms me. I’m also now remembering that I had a Mr. O dream last night. Nothing R-rated, just a broad chest, smells of dry cleaning, paper and after shave, warmth and strong arms around me, comforting. And there was something on his shirt cuff but it’s gone now.

And I’ve put some reasoning into my unhealthy Mr. O obsession. To me, he’s larger than life with his tall frame and broad shoulders. He’s got a somewhat arrogant attitude, but nine times out of ten he’s got the smarts to back it up. And if I were that smart I’d be a little cocky too. He’s funny, and that’s number one on my list. He’ll watch football and baseball and probably the Tour de France with me, and a little hockey. And I’ve figured out that I need something larger than myself to bounce off of. I guess right now that’s lacking for me. Probably always has been and that’s why I have an obvious type. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m shrinking. There is nothing out there larger than myself to grab on to.

That’d be me over there, to the right. Kate’s blog, Mother Words, mentioned how you should have a picture up on your blog and I thought, why not? At some point I have to get over being shy about my appearance. So there you go.

I’ve tried several times since Saturday to put up a post, to no avail. We went to the Homeward Bound adoption. I was totally OK with not getting a dog, but we got a dog. We named him Milo. He’s a mutt. It’s fantastic, not wait….that’s not entirely true.

Whereas Cooper was a man, Milo is a dude. He totally looks like his favorite outfit is a bandana. He’s sweet and mellow and a completely different dog that what we are used to. The Buns thinks he’s hysterical and Boo is still dealing with the loss, but she’s digging Milo.

I however, am feeling guilty. Now that he’s here, I know I’m not ready. I could have gone months without another dog. Especially one that needs a little house-training and a hard lesson in obedience. And since I’m the one that’s home most of the time, it’s mainly my problem.

Maybe it’s the weather or maybe I’m just not ready for such a change, but I feel like there is so little of me left to give, do I really want to spend the remainder on this dog. I realize that in six weeks, he’ll be a different dog. But right now, it’s a lot of reassurance and attention (he was obviously neglected), with nothing in return. And I don’t have high expectations for this dog, trust me. But it’s a huge pain in the ass to get the routine down with the kids and school and naps and eating and now I have to deal with a dog. A dog that likes to pee in the house and jump up on the kitchen counter. It’s hard enough teaching some manners to a three year old and a ten month old, but now the dog too? And I know it’s temporary. His behavior will get better. But right now, it’s just too much for me.

And he’s really sweet. He’s a cuddle-bug and he’s mellow. He tolerated the kids and kennels up. But I hate putting him in the kennel to change a diaper, but I can’t trust him. Changing a diaper isn’t changing a diaper anymore. Changing a diaper is now kenneling the dog, feeling guilty about it, moving the gate (since he’s not allowed upstairs - the scene of all his accidents), changing a diaper, telling the dog to quit whining, putting the baby down, putting the gate back up and letting the dog out.

When Hubbin came home the other day I told him we have to take the dog back. It was too much. I felt terrible about that. And I feel terrible now. And get this, Milo totally knows. He totally knows I’m not ready for him. He gets that the baby is my priority, mine to take care of because I’m the alpha. But as a human-dog bond, it just aint there. Hubbin asked me if I was serious about taking him back. The answer is yes, but I’m not the type of person who would rescue a dog and then bring it back for no good reason. if he bit the baby, problem solved (God forbid). But me not being ready doesn’t seem like a good enough reason. And that is a whole other set of problems.