This morning's 911 adventure

I started to get a cold Wednesday night, but felt okay Thursday until after work. At that point it became more than a snotty nose, chest congestion and a cough - my fever went from a pretty mild 99.8 to a "shiver under two blankets, and a thick hooded sweater" 102.8 in under an hour. By the end of the night I had decided not to call in sick to work for today because my temperature was down (by this point 101.8 which seemed like nothing last night in my deluded fever-clouded logic), I had stopped shivering, and was in fact feeling much better.

This morning I definitely still had the cold, but figured I would be fine at work and would just hope for a short list in court so I could be done ASAP and head home to sleep the rest of the cold off. The little virus decided it had other plans.

I was standing in my PJs (aka hospital pants and an oversized dragon boating t-shirt) putting on makeup in the mirror in an attempt to look less pale. Suddenly I start to feel kinda dizzy. Our bathroom is so small I sat on the nearest thing, which happened to be the toilet seat in the hopes of feeling better. Didn't work. I yelled for Dave but I don't think he heard. Before realizing it I fell onto the floor, and Dave came racing upstairs to see what caused the thud. I was pretty incoherent at this point, and since our bathroom is so small he couldn't really get the door open very far because I was on the floor (it's that small). Apparently I didn't respond to him and he decided at that point (despite my protests when I got a bit more coherent) to call an ambulance. He got me onto the bed so I could lie down (and now that I think about it, he might've carried me cause I sure don't remember walking) and started pulling the curlers out of my hair so I would look like less of an ass when help arrived (he knows I have a thing for cute paramedics). Minutes later there were 3 firemen in our bedroom, and seconds after that 2 paramedics. This in our itty bitty bedroom which is 90% bed and 10% floor space. Dave stood in the doorway as they assessed me and told me I didn't look so great. (ya think?)

I had pretty low blood pressure (the top number was 82) and really low blood sugar (3.5) so I got to take a ride in the ambulance to the hospital and eat a package of glucose gel which tasted more like eating a tube of kids' toothpaste. You'd think they'd be able to make something that was pure sugar taste good.

Dave waited with me at the hospital and kept me entertained. He has a newfound respect for nurses after seeing an old man wearing only pink boxers and obviously suffering from dementia spill his pee all over the place. The nurse patiently helped him back to bed and with nary an eye roll told him things would be fine.

So, I'm now home after having my blood pressure checked by at least 5 people, an EKG, my temperature, pulse, urinalysis (I'll spare you the details), had oxygen and had my blood sugar checked twice. Yay socialized medicine!

If you've ever had an EKG let me tell ya they're no big deal unless you're a hairy person. I'm glad my dad was wrong when he said eating broccoli would put hair on my chest. I eat it, and am very thankful to be pretty hair-free in my chestal area... otherwise the little electrodes (about 6 of them!) on my chest would have REALLY sucked. It's also a great reason to keep your legs shaved.

This afternoon's agenda involves drinking lots of fluids, watching whatever crappy daytime TV the rabbit ears can pull in, and enjoying the cancer society daffodils Dave brought home last night. The boy's got pretty good timing if I do say so myself.