So I just got out of the hospital. That was fun. I’ll start from the beginning.
Saturday, of course, was spent with some herbal supplement, recreational activities, and Kane watching “Harold and Kumar go to White Castle” about six times in a row. So Professor Madness makes these shitty ass chicken wings that I SWEAR were undercooked, except that the Zombie King and Professor Madness ate some too and they didn’t get sick, so everyone else said that it couldn’t have been the chicken wings, except that A.) Professor Madness is used to eating shitty ass undercooked chicken wings, since he does it all the time, and B.) the Zombie King has a fucking stomach of steel. I swear to God, its no wonder we call him the Zombie King. Anyways, that night, I slept in and next to the bathroom because I had to wake up every fifteen minutes to vomit. The first one was comprised of chicken, spinach and feta. Lovely. The second was just brown water… dark orange.. light orange.. etc.. etc… eventually, I was just vomiting water because I kept putting water into my body to do away with whatever evil lurked inside. Why am I telling you this? I don’t fucking know, why are you reading it?
So Sunday, everyone was watching cool movies like “Faust” and “Roshomon”, which I missed out on because I was still alternately hugging the toilet and passing out in a random pile of clothes in the corner of the bathroom. Eventually I felt well enough to take a shower, and eventually I felt well enough to walk up the steep hill to my own house. Sunday night/Monday morning, however, I didn’t get any sleep because of a searing headache, stomachache, warm and cold spells, and the most shooting severe chest pains I have ever felt in my entire life. (Which doesn’t say much considering they were the ONLY chest pains I had ever felt in my entire life).
It got so bad that this morning I eventually called an ambulance to come and pick me up. One of the guys (with a little mustache) seemed put out to have to come and get me, even though it’s his fucking JOB, and he made some snide comment about how the hospital is only a block or two away. Asshole, YOU try walking when each step feels like a heart attack. The other ambo guy was really cool, and even accompanied me into the ER to make sure everything worked out for me. He didn’t have a mustache.
I felt really bad considering it’s been thirteen years since I had to go to the hospital and nine years since I’ve taken any medicine, so much as an aspirin or cough drop (herbal supplements notwithstanding).
So, after a cardiograph, chest x-ray, and some type of weird nasty cocktail that tasted like distilled hospital (I was informed later is called G.I. Cocktail), I was told that I wasn’t having heart problems, it was just a lower esophageal burning from all of the acids of vomiting, and all the muscles in my chest were sort of contracting at once. My doctor, (named Dr. Friend) told me not to drink any coffee, soda or orange juice, but to have a lot of milk. Oops. I had been drinking nothing but orange juice the entire night becuase I had assumed that drinking dairy would have been bad.
And to top it all off, I haven’t done my homework for a class due in two hours. I am on livejournal bitching instead. Woot.
But the moral of the story is not to take life for granted. This was the most pain I have ever been in my entire life and it lasted easily 36 hours. I was asking God to end my life one moment and then trying to make a deal with the devil the next. I think it had something to do with the fact that they were watching “Faust” in the other room. Hm.