After a super eventful 24 hours I can now say there are worst things than being sick for three weeks.
Like getting a call from your doctor at 8 o’clock at night telling you to go to the ER IMMEDIATELY because your blood test came back wonky and there’s a strong possibility you have blood clots in your lungs, and could end up with a pulmonary embolism, stroke out, and die at any second.
Thank goodness the above didn’t happen, but I’m now significantly poorer, stabbed more times than I can count with needles, and badly in need of a shower and a pep talk.
I shall live to snark another day.
There was some hilarity in the whole experience though. When I got to the hospital I was whisked back to a room pretty much immediately (how often does THAT happen?) and was paired with the coolest dude nurse I ever could have asked for.
Our interaction started with him telling me that he needed to draw blood and my responding “ok stick it in me. But do it hard, I don’t want you to have to do it more than once to get what you want.”
When he looked shocked and befuddled and then promptly responded, “well then shut your mouth and stop distracting me” I knew we would get along just fine.
We proceed to talk guns, boobs and tell each other to shut up regularly for the next several hours, cracking up hubs in the process.
I’m not sure what I would have done with some sweet little old lady nurse who winced when I dropped f-bombs. Thank goodness I got the dude who knew how to handle someone as cranky as me.