By the time they woke me up to finish off the paper work now that I was no longer stoned, they reminded me I had a pulmonary embolism---a blood clot in my left lung.
And then they jabbed me in the stomach with my first needle. Which really doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as you'd think. Although it does still freak me the fuck out every time it happens. But that was really the highlight of the rest of my week. I spent the next three days reading, watching CNN, and sleeping. Phone call from a relative every 2 hours. Blood pressure/temperature/pulse-ox every 4 hours. Needle in the gut every 12. Pill every 24.
But as I said, I'm sitting in bed, feeling mostly in perfect health, knowing I could have died. And every day, they doctors tell me I will go home. Until they disappear after their shift, and I'm still there. Without knowing how long my sentence was for, I couldn't make long term plans, for clothes, or entertainment, or work. I barely got my cat fed.
And that was it. A surreal, distant environment and situation, with no tangible control or end. Surreal enough to change every day. It started off hotel quiet, with just the occasional obligatory stranger walking down the hall. That turned into a day of Law and Order, listening to my neighbor beg for pain pills at 3 AM. And finishing it off last night with groups of incredibly cheerful yuppies being supportive of each-other.
(Just one angel, visited me on the third day with gifts of chocolate and magazines.)
But this morning, they sprang me. It just sort of nonchalantly happened. One minute I'm being poked and prodded, and almost literally the next, I'm free to go. (Except, of course, since I was stoned off my ass when they brought me in, I didn't know where I actually was). And all of the sudden, surreality shifts again. And I can't help suddenly noticing how disturbingly real the outside world is. And it's dirty. And the people aren't very bright. And I'm incredibly conscious of every tainted breath I take with my faulty lungs. And while the pains in my side are still around, just waiting for me to turn the wrong way, I feel immensely better than the day I checked in. But since I've only been sitting on my ass for the last 3 or 4 days, I don't know if even the exertion of getting my prescriptions filled will wear me down so much I won't be able to make it home. (Admittedly, many of these thoughts dissipated quickly when I got a bill of over $1,300 for 1 week's worth of drugs. I am sooooooo incredibly screwed).
But I'm home again. And Pixel is content. My life is now so incredibly fucked up and in trouble, but I'm tired beyond belief and a bit staggered by all this. So for just these few minutes, I'm smiling and walking around bare-foot.
Welcome to "HEALTH CARE USA"