A trip to the ER…
…..a slug of vodka…
Once upon a time those 2 sentences in the same story would have meant a wild night. And a wilder story.
But this is me we are talking about. And my stories never goes as planned.
I’d make major milestones with my bigs by allowing them to invite their significant others for the weekend to their grandparents lake house.
True to form my parents outdid themselves. We spent an afternoon in the lake: jet skiing, jumping rocks, leaping off double decker docks and taking daring plunges off tall bridges. And yes, I joined in dock jumping and bridge diving.
No-it wasn’t after a slug of vodka that made me do it and it wasn’t the jumps that led me to the ER.
After a delicious dinner we settled around the patio table for some s’mores. Redneck style.
By 9:15 we were all d.o.n.e. The sleeping arrangements and sleeping arrangement rules were laid out. Succinctly. Unapologetically. Specifically.
I let them gather a bit before we all retreated to our own rooms in opposite sides of the house. Teenagers being teenagers there was some clean up that needed done before Beddie-bye.
Earlier I told everyone that my favorite part of my parents house was what they called the breezeway. It’s a large, open air, covered patio with swirling fans and comfy furniture. The entire front side is the patio is open-a big movie screen. The star of the show is, When there is a lake, the moon reflects off the water. You can hear bugs and toad frogs and crickets.
I went around the patio collecting semi-full soda cans. I gathered an iPad and an iPod and reached for a sprite can when….
Mother-of-god-holy-hell-shit-shit-ahit—the worst pain I’ve ever felt——including birthing 3 children–exploded in my foot.
The can dropped, the iPad went flying and I screamed. Loudly. I picked up my phone to see what could possibly be causing this excruciating pain. An inch and a half sinister looking winged beast with a striped body was viciously stuck in my foot. While screaming it tried to shake it off. Nothing. I screamed louder because that’s oh-so-helpful.
I am not lying…a white fog of sheer pain took over. Somehow that bug got off. Somehow, still screaming I got inside. Scared kids stared at me. My mom was frantically rubbing her famous salt paste on my foot and I was panting, sweating and swearing.
The pain intensified. With every pulse it felt like molten lava was traveling from the pad of my foot to every part of my body.
After a few minutes my dad asked for a magnifying glass and a needle. I heard someone say,”ahh man-I know that that means…”
I knew what it meant too but I didn’t care. My mom handed me a cup and said,”this works in the westerns.” I knew what that meant too. With shaking hands I grabbed the glass and drank it all.
It didn’t work.
The needle touched my foot. I am pretty sure I used words I didn’t know I knew.
Someone said “ER” and I screamed “I’ll go!” I didn’t care. I would have taken a chain saw and taken off my own foot at this point.
I didn’t even know blood pressure could go over 200. “How much do you weigh?” I don’t freaking know. “Date of last period?” I am 46 lady. That’s about all I could make it through other than to answer 10-10-10 when asked about my pain scale.
4 hours, 4 shots and the worlds largest dumb ass of a doctor later….I was still at a 10 despite being told “it should have worked” when the doctor (and I use that term loosely) came in after 3 hours. Evidently one of the shots I got was supposed to knock out a small elephant.
10. Still a 10….
…and I didn’t care what should have worked.
Japanese hornets are no joke.
5 hours in the ER, a slug of vodka and 3 narcotics because I stepped on a bug. On my way to bed. At 9:50. It’s not even a good story!
Despite the drama we managed to soak all the fun out of weekend that we could. Keeping in with the redneck theme we loaded down 2 pick up trucks with random floats and floated down the river.
Well-I set out to give them memories. Guess I delivered!