A weekend to remember

A few Thursday's ago, my parents went to Minnesota. Not gonna lie, I was pretty excited to have the house to myself for the weekend. Rachel and Elizabeth were coming over and we were going to have a Gilmore Girls marathon all weekend. I had the entire weekend planned. I was going to get all of my homework done on Thursday, go to the extra credit field trip on Friday, buy unreal amounts of pizza and ice cream Saturday morning before going into work, pick up Rachel and Elizabeth after I got off, and spend the rest of the weekend chilling on the couch watching Gilmore girls. It was a beautiful plan.

Then Thursday morning happened. For about a week I had been in a little bit of pain. I had a cold, my tailbone seemed bruised, and I had been having some pain in my appendix area. None of these were major things, until Thursday morning. I felt beyond sick. I felt like I would throw up if I moved, and thanks to my tailbone sitting had become impossible. So I didn't go to school, and I didn't do any homework. I stayed in bed all day. I felt horrible about it. My parents go out of town and I totally slack off everything I need to do! But I felt my reasons were pretty legit.

So Friday morning I woke up thinking all would be well. I was wrong. I was in a lot of pain, meaning I couldn't walk, sit, stand, lay (lie?) down, or move without crying in pain. So I picked up the phone and called my mom. I told her that I couldn't wait until they got home Sunday night to find out what was wrong with my tailbone, so she told me to call the doctor, which I did. The secretary picked up the phone and informed me that my doctor was out of town until Monday, and, crying in pain, I asked if I could possibly see one of the other three doctors in the office. She tried to tell me that I could just wait until Monday, but I finally convinced her that I really was crying because of the pain, and she fit me in with another doctor.

So I painfully drove to the doctor, who informed me that I had an infection in my tailbone, and before it spread I needed to go in for emergency surgery. I asked him if I needed someone to drive me, because I figured I wouldn't be able to drive myself home after. However, he told me that I would be fine and able to drive.

I must admit that this freaked me out. What kind of surgery did they do without any morphine/anesthesia? But I took his word for it.

If you have never seen Brian Regan's Emergency room act, you need to. Like, now. Or at least before you read the rest.

So I drove myself to the Emergency Room. I couldn't help but stick in a few "merge, everybody merge! I'm only imploding!"'s whenever someone cut me off.

After driving around the hospital a few times, I found the emergency entrance. Just my luck, no parking places. There was, however, one bit of curb that was not painted red. I started driving over to park my car, when another woman, looking desperate, sped up and took it before I could get there.

Great.

I drove around for a while thinking about my options, and finally decided to park in visitors parking, which happens to be on the complete opposite side of the hospital. I walked into the hospital at the main entry, and looked around for a sign saying 'emergency.' Turns out they didn't have any. So I went up to the information desk and kindly asked the lady the quickest way to the ER. I have never gotten a look quite like the one she gave me. After a moment of looking confused, she pointed down the hall, telling me to keep left, go through the doors, turn right after taking a few more lefts and then walk outside after crossing such and such parking lot and then I would see the sign. Needless to say I had to ask for directions a few more times, getting the same strange looks each time.

Eventually I found it. After checking myself in they took my blood pressure/pulse/whatever else they do and informed me that, based on my pulse, I was in a lot of pain. Wow, I had no idea. After this revelation was made, they got the rest of my information and sent me back to my room. Shortly after a nurse came in, and, looking confused, asked me where my parents were. I informed her that they were in Minnesota, and she looked slightly relieved. She told me they had wondered why a seventeen year old girl was driving herself to the emergency room with no friends/family to accompany her. She was glad to know that my parents were out of town and she didn't have to worry that I was being neglected.

After sticking an IV in me, twice, might I add, she told me I needed to call a young womans leader or a friend to be with me. Quite honestly I didn't find this thought appealing at all. As much as I wanted someone to be there when I got surgery on my tailbone...but she insisted that someone be there. So I called Rachel, who, being the angel that she is, came down to be with me.

I must say I have never been so happy to see someone walk into a room in my entire life. I didn't realize how stressed and worried I was until she was there to tell me it was going to be ok. Once she got there it was as if it was suddenly alright to cry and be worried. She told me jokes and we laughed when the machine tracking my heart beets stopped beeping.

The morphine was kicking in and I was feeling fine, no worries in the world! The doctor came in and told me that he wasn't trying to hurt me. That should've been a red flag. He told me over and over again that they weren't trying to hurt me. I found this odd, I thought maybe he didn't realize I had heard him the first five times he told me. It wasn't until after the procedure was over that I realized he was telling me this because it was going to be very painful, and he wanted me to know they were doing all they could to not create pain.

They didn't put me out for the procedure. In retrospect, that was the worst idea anyone ever had. The numbing shots were the most painful thing I have ever gone through, and I was thinking maybe just living with the infection would have been better. I wont go into all the painful details, but I will say that I was trying with all I had to stay calm, to not cry, to not scream. Despite my best efforts, however, I did all of the above. Thank goodness Rachel was there to hold my hand. I know they gave me numbing shots, but that doesn't mean I couldn't feel the pain. During the procedure I decided that if labor pains are anywhere close to that, I'm adopting all of my children.

It ended, they drugged me up, they sent me home. I was amazingly grateful they didn't make me stay the night.

The only thing I wanted to do was go home and sleep, but Rachel and I decided to go get the prescriptions they had given me and thought we might as well buy some food while we were at it. I can honestly say that I have never felt so 'hey everyone, look at me!' while walking through a grocery store in my entire life. Between the scrubs, the hospital bracelet, and the tape holding on the cotton balls over my IV holes, I felt pretty pathetic. Not to mention the fact that I was on morphine and had just been crying, leaving me pale and with tear stains on my face. I was glad to get out and go home.

So my weekend didn't exactly go as I had planned. I didn't get any homework done, I missed the field trip, and I had to get someone to cover my shift. However, I was visited friends who brought me food, flowers, and candy, and who haven't made fun of me for the things I said while on drugs. And we still got to watch Gilmore Girls, so I guess everything turned out alright.

I must say that the best part of this experience is the story I got out of it. I think it's one to rival my Hot air balloon experience.