What's Up????

So sorry it's been a bit since my last post. I am having some health issues right now, in all seriousness, and I am getting some migraine headaches as a result. Nothing to worry about. I have had thyroid issues for about 10 years, and suddenly, that special little organ decided to stop working as hard as usual. So, after a nice trip to the emergency room, because I thought I either had a brain tumor or a heart attack was ensuing, we find I just need to up my dosage.

Yes, people, I went to the ER. And yes, there was unusual drama, because after all, it was ME! Let's see if I can give you a few highlights...

• I kept asking the nurse if I could possibly have various exotic ailments...finally she was so irritated she said..."did you go to medical school?" and I said "no" and she said, "well then why don't you let us figure out what is wrong, and you just relax."   Bi-atch.  Ok, so I shut the hell up.
• Nurse:  "ok, let's get an ekg hooked up...mmm. what's wrong with this machine.  Oh, this machine is always messing up.  Ok, what is your right hand?" (I raise my hand, thinking this is a test because she thinks I've fainted or something)  And then she goes..."oh, I have the wires crossed."  (now I think I am going to be electricuted).  Then she leaves.  Greg is sitting watching the monitor and I asked, what's it say.  He said, "flatline...you're dead, if what happens on Grey's Anatomy is true.)  In walks different nurse, throws the sheet back, and after yelling "hello...I'm Amy, and we are going to take an ekg" (I think, ok, but I'm not deaf) and she sees that first nurse fucked up all the wires and plugs.  Dumb bitch.  Yes the same one that asked me if I went to medical school.  You know my ass was about to ask her if she skipped ekg class when SHE went to that prestigious nursing program at DeVry Institute, no doubt.  
• Holy shit, the ambulance arrives.  Someone has wrecked their motorcycle.  The first words I hear are FUCK >>> IT HURTS.  OMG, this is going to be good.  I'm a little freaked.  I listen to the EMTs give his vitals, tell about the accident, etc.  Oh, poor guy.  
• Subject in next room:  listen, this is really whacked...I learned all kinds of personal shit about this dude.  I know his name, his address, his phone number, how much he paid for his bike, his cell phone carrier, the fact that he blew a .20 alcohol, he's going to jail as soon as they patch his ass up.  He's got a pregnant gf and 2 kids already.  he's a wreck.  Deion is my cell mate in this ER nightmare.  And he is NOT HAPPY.  He calls the nurse a bitch because she stuck him with a needle.  But that wasn't half as bad as when he discovers they CUT his jeans and underwear off his body at the accident site.  OMG.  He starts screaming...those were DESIGNER jeans.  They cost 65.00  OMG, my designer jeans.  Nevermind Deion, you'll be in orange jumpsuit soon.  Well, it soon becomes obvious he is still drunk because he is giggling sometimes.  And then he yells at the CHP officer..."Hey, Miami Vice...hello?  Miami Vice...I see your shoes...some in here." (Said cop is filling out paper work for his future incarceration of Mr. DUI Deion.   I know this because I had to drag my ass to the bathroom with my IV pole, and the CHP dude nearly tripped on my IV stand, by accident).   Anyway, Deion asks about his motorcycle and what was the condition.  CHP officer "Totalled dude...it's in like 5 pieces."  Deion, "OOOHHHHMMMMMYYYYY GGOOOOOODDDDD"  And he starts bawling like a 2 year old at the circus when they run out of cotton candy.  OMG, he was crying so loud.  Me and Greg just looked at each other and were speechless.  So, they finally calmed him down.  
• Deion now has to pee.  He has a broken left hand, it seems, and he is not able to hold the urinal and his 'snake' with one hand.  (When he called his pee pee a 'snake' I thought I was going to die laughing.)  
• Fast forward 2 hours.  It is now determined that the biggest problem is Deion needs surgury, and he is not going to jail now, because he has to spend the night in the hospital.  Around 12:30 pm the doctor arrives, they have dragged him out of bed.  Deion: Hey doctor, do I really need surgury?"  Dr. "I hope so because they dragged me out of bed for this."  (no shit, he really said that.)  It gets better.  Deion decides he is not doing anything until he talks to the nurse, as she is the only one he trusts.  She comes in and says "Shut up Deion, get the surgury.  you won't be able to make a fist without it, or wiggle your fingers, how stupid is that?"  So, Deion said, "ok".  Then the aenethesgiologist (spelling check please?) comes.  And he should have been called first, because Deion is too drunk to be put under for surgery.  I could have told them that.  So, it appears, the adventures of Deion are now over, and he falls  asleep.  Surgery postponed.  
• I finally fall asleep since the Deion tv show is over.
• 4:00 am...Deion is snoring and I get released.  Diagnosis:  Up your pill 25mg and you'll feel better in 4 - 7 days. 

So, I've been sitting here, surfing the internet, when I can read, or sleeping. For like 3 days. Booorrrrinnnngggg.  Couldn't decide if I would tell you guys about the ER trip.  Haven't even told my mom yet.  Or my Dad.  Why have them worry?

My husband is being really super nice, EXCEPT he won't take me to see Sex and the City. Truthfully, we were supposed to go last night but I got a little woozie.  So, I told him, let's go see the 8:00 tonite.  He said "ok".  then I find it's at 7:20.  He's trying to say he's busy until 8:00.  He totally doesn't want to go.  However, when I point out that he never missed an episode on HBO and he watches reruns, he clams up.

So, more tomorrow.  

Hey, programming update.  Tomorrow, I am picking up a stranger carpooler I met on Craigs List.  So, if you don't hear a post from me by tomorrow night, send out an Amber Alert.  Co-workers...if I don't show up for the 11:00 staff meeting, please call chp.  I driving and am meeting him at Starbucks at 8:30 am on Marina Blvd/I-880.  His cell phone number is in my Blackberry, which I guess will be with me, but let detectives know anyway.  

Ok, all kidding aside, I'm sure he's nice.  But just in case, I already have a plan, which is, if he pulls a gun or knife on me, I am driving his side of the car directly into oncoming traffic or a light pole.  I will not be Drivin' Miss Daisy to a crime scene.   Seriously, I am going to make him put his bags in the back seat.  That's after I get a picture of him with my cell phone and call in his DL# to the chp for verification of clean record.  LOL

Alrighty, well, hope your weekend was swell.  I'll give you my Sarah jessica parker review tomorrow.