Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Val Thevictorian's Wild Ride

When we last gathered, you at the feet of Val Thevictorian, eagerly yearning for tales of her recent near-death experience, Val was awaiting transport to a city hospital from her Backroads ER facility.

My chariot arrived at 3:30 p.m. I was strapped onto a hydraulic metal contraption with a gossamer covering some might loosely refer to as a "mattress." The strapping looked like seatbelts or come-a-longs. I had an oxygen tank at my feet, to which my nasal cannula was attached. You all know what a nasal cannula is, don't you? It's that clear rubbery plastic thing with two prongs that sticks in your nose to spray oxygen. I was happy to have it.

I had a needle taped to my left inner elbow, though Hick insisted it was NOT a needle, but made of plastic. Like he would know, what with it taped down, showing only the green plastic cylinder end suitable for shooting drugs into. I had not the breath to bandy words with Dr. Hick concerning my arm plumbing. Hick chose to follow the ambulance (ambulance chaser!) so he would have a way home from the hospital.

My attendants warned me that the ride would not be smooth. I might best compare it to riding over cobblestones on steel wheels while laying on an iron platform. No shock absorbing going on. At all. My bed was locked into the floor of the ambulance. I had to brace myself with my good right arm against the side to keep from sloshing back and forth on turns and lane changes. I had a lovely view out the back door. A lovely view of tailgaters who had once again found Val Thevictorian, and like nothing better than to rattle her cage. The cage being this ambulance, which had an alarm every time a car got too close to one corner of the bumper or the other. My ride was a cacophony of corner-cutters. Though I wistfully looked for my Hick the entire ride, I did not see him. Little did I know he had run by the homestead to grab a couple of things he thought I might need. None of which I did. None of which included pajama pants or sweatpants.

After an hour and a half of lesser gasping, and intermittent vitals checks, I arrived at my destination. I would not recommend riding in an ambulance down I-270 during rush hour on a Friday evening. I had to resort to closing my eyes, as the morphine and Ativan seemed to have worn off. Thank goodness the Lasix had flowed out of my body by the time the ambulance arrived.

My attendants hauled me out of the back of the truck, into the bright sunlight, blinking like a bloated white critter exposed by an overturned rotting board. They whisked me into MoBap to an elevator bank, up to the sixth floor, around a roundabout, and into a cramped double room. How they unloaded me in those close quarters I still cannot quite fathom.

The RN checked me in, I was ensconced in the window bed, vitaled, and offered a supper tray. That was great news, because all I had at the Backroads ER all day was a quarter of a turkey sandwich and two sips of hot Diet Coke. And THAT was an afterthought, at 2:30 p.m., when a nurse checked on me and asked how I was doing, and I replied that I was getting a little hungry. Apparently, folks at the Backroads ER are expected to fast from 7:45 a.m. until they are pawned off on a different hospital.

We will leave me here tonight, in my MoBap bed, snug as a clotted bug in a tight rug, with visions of deep breaths dancing in my head.

Little did I know what lay in store...

7 comments:

  1. And so the saga continues. I've never been in an ambulance. Lucky me.

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  2. Hick was right about your IV, the needle is removed after the initial stick, leaving a plastic catheter in place. No need to admit this to him ....

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  3. Oooo, what a cliffhanger you ended with. I'm going to step away from the edge...the soil is starting to crumble underneath my feet.

    MoBap. You were in my neighborhood. If I had only known the elusive Val was close by, I would have gotten into the Siouxmobile and driven like a bat out of not-heaven, so I could properly stalk you.

    Drats! You must have jammed the signal--my Val-detector did not pick up any sign of you.

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  4. Working to remember all these details so you could share them as blog fodder probably saved your life. When I end up in the ER I usually pass out. When I wake up later I'm wired and tubed like a science project with no memory of all the excitement. So glad you're breathing better.

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  5. What's going on? I haven't been blogging or checking blogs for a few weeks and here you are in an ambulance being transported to a hospital. Hope the story ends well.

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  6. Sending good wishes and the hope that you are breathing easier and only getting the silliest blog fodder, and not for too long. P.S.- I once rode in an ambulance for about 15 minutes, and I was only semi-conscious, but bumping around in a speeding box with no windows was enough to put a person in the hospital.

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  7. Stephen,
    Yes, lucky you. This was my second ride. I'm a drama queen.

    *****
    Kathy,
    I guess that's why I could bend my elbow and lean on it and not have the sharp shooting pain of impaling myself over and over. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day. No need to encourage Hick by admitting he was correct.

    *****
    Sioux,
    Val is deep in the Blogger Protection Program. She has a jammer imbedded to discourage tracking devices. I would have welcomed your visit had you found me, as long as you addressed me by my hospital alias, "Madame Bed Head."

    *****
    Leenie,
    I felt like passing out, but I was afraid I would not wake up. So I did mental writing exercises, and drug Hick around with me like an albatross around my neck.

    *****
    Donna,
    I went to the ER Friday morning with multiple pulmonary embolisms, and spent three days in the hospital. I'm still kickin', so I'd say the story ends well.

    *****
    Tammy,
    I had another ride in the bumping speeding box after I rolled my car and got a concussion and dislocated shoulder. I can't really say which one was more fun.

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