So, I spent most of today in the ER.
Don't panic; I have the flu. And no, I didn't get my flu shot yet this year, because everytime they offered them work I had a conflict, and I just never around to going to Kaiser for it.
That will never happen again, for flu is a holy goddamn bitch.
I spent most of yesterday alternately freezing and sweating, coughed enough that my sides ache, and slept the rest of the time.
Joe woke me with the promise of pancakes and coffee, so I got up. I thought I felt better. I drank most of a cup of coffee and ate half my pancakes when I started feeling quite woozy. "Woozy" - such a descriptive term! Then I had the overwhelming urge to go lie down. I got up, took two steps toward the sofa, and woke up on the floor.
Joe says I simply dropped, like marionnette whose strings were suddenly cut.
I have fainted before, but this was different because I bopped my head. Well, actually, my knee, shoulder, and face. Evidently I kept asking him the same three questions in rotation: Is it Saturday? Did I hit my knee? Do you have to work today? (Believe it or not, this is not my typical behavior.)
Joe put a pillow under my head. At this point I was quite comfortable and would have been perfectly happy to lie there and nap the day away, but Joe had other plans; specifically, calling 911.
I did manage -- with Joe's help -- to get to the sofa before the ambulance arrived. The EMTs were great. I walked -- again with help -- to the ambulance and once again had to lie down for the ride to the ER.
The great thing about going to the ER in an ambulance is you go right on in, yay. No sitting around a waiting room with a bunch of sick people.
Anyone who has ever been to an ER knows that most of the time you spend there -- if you are not in imminent danger of death -- is spent waiting. The nurse got me hooked up to all of the monitors pretty quickly, took a shitpile of blood out of me, and handed me the most important piece of equipment, the TV remote.
But man oh man, that ER room was hot. I was sweatin' up a storm and about as parched as I have ever been. Luckily, my sister came (Joe had called her on the way to the ER) and she had a bottle of water with her. So I sneaked several refreshing gulps of the lifegiving beverage. And I borrowed her chapstick too.
The doc appeared and I fell in love. He listened to my wheezes, he asked great questions, he examined all my bruises (did I mention? -- knee, shoulder, face!), he ordered a CAT scan and a chest x-ray and a nebulizer treatment and an IV.
The CAT scan room, unlike the ER room, was freezing. It felt great. I would have been perfectly happy lying on the CAT scan bed for the rest of the day and night because I was finally cool, delightfully, deliciously cool.
Alas, back to the ER I went, where I had the speedy-uppy nebulizer treatment while a bag of saline solution dripped into my arm.
Dr. Cutestuff came back to tell that my chest x-ray was fine, my CAT scan was fine, my bloodwork was fine, and I had the flu. He gave me scrips for painkiller (knee, shoulder, face), cough medicine, and an inhaler; and wrote out work notes for both Joe (caregiver) and me (sick person). Score! (Not really.)
So now I'm home and hydrated. And I'm also exhausted, so I am finally going to go lie down.