I have decided to tell a story about the excitement that has befallen me. Last week, I got into some poison ivy. I tend to have a bad reaction to it, worse than most people. I dealt with it the best I could. I took antihistamines, used ointments to ease the itch. I washed the infected areas. I did what I could to keep it under control.
There were some things about the reaction Wife didn’t like, like parts of the rash turning a deep purple and one of my legs swelling up. Wife, with the help of a few additional relatives said I should go to the hospital. I’m at the hospital now and patiently waiting my turn. While I’m here, I’m going to keep you up to speed on everything going on with my treatment and the fun people-watching I’m doing in the waiting area. By the way, this is being done on the phone, so I’m sorry if things look off-kilter.
It’s been fun here at the hospital. Nurses come into the waiting area, yell a name, and no one answers. I gave my information to the people at check-in, sat down in the waiting area and the. Was seen by triage. The nice people at triage asked me the same questions I was originally asked. A third person asked me the same questions I answered twice already as well as a couple of bonus questions. My religion. My race. I didn’t know what my race had to do with my poison Ivy. The nice person explained it was for research. The person asking the questions told me they weren’t the one asking the questions.
Luckily, I have some books to keep me busy. I’m reading. While reading, I spoke to some relatives over the phone. I gave them a play-by-play of what was happening. There was a guy who was yelling at nurses and then security. A woman was yelling at the receptionist for not giving her a note, which meant she would be fired from a job. The nice receptionist explained the doctor had to see her first before they could give her the note. She’ll get one, she just needs to be patient. She isn’t feeling very patient right now. I stopped reading to take in the sideshows going on here at the hospital.
Family Feud is on, but the drama here in the waiting room seems more exciting. I’m just glad none of the excitement is being caused by my family this time. We’ve had enough of that.
Someone else has come in. They’re being belligerent. A woman who came in with him grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to the door saying, Stop it right now.” Security is putting gloves in. This should be fun. Closer to me, a lady is on the phone while trying to prevent her son from climbing on an end table.
After a six-hour wait, I’ve been moved to a triage unit. It’s nice. There’s a tv. A table for my books. It’s nice to put my feet up. It helps the swelling. No one has come in yet, but some nice people are saying hello as they pass by.
More drama. Someone’s mad. They’re tired of waiting. I think all the patients are, but this guy is really letting them know. I can’t hear everything because of the TV in my room. I can’t find the remote control. They didn’t give me a tour of the place but I’m trying to figure out all the important stuff while I’m here.
Two people come in and check me out. My rash (see the pictures) are unlike anything they’ve seen. I’m glad I was able to contribute to medicine. We discuss my prescriptions. They decide to give me a larger dose. Keep being vigilant with the medication and ointments. Resist the urge to scratch (but it feels so good! 😖). I am sent home with a new prescription. I talk to family on the way home. When I come home, I see my children. I hope for some sympathy hugs. Nothing. I eat dinner and reflect on the day, the nice people who helped me, and those who unknowingly entertained me.
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