Monday, April 02, 2007
When it takes a half-bottle of codeine and pint-glass of vodka to maintain the ability to sit in a chair, you know something's not right. i have been in excruciating pain since tuesday, when my doctor told me she enjoyed gardening, doused me in acid, and then went on vacation. at first i assumed the pain would subside, but by the time two days had passed and I was still unable to walk down the street unlike an olsen with a beagle-sized troll doll stuffed up her vadge, i called my doctor's office. I figured that on her recording, there would be another number for some other specialist with whom she worked, but no such luck. what i heard instead was, "hello! dr. p_____ will be on vacation till april 9th. if you are having a medical emergency, please call 911. thanks!"
so after battling my way through a week of classes and work at the web mag, and then a weekend at the office, trying my hardest not to seem weird, drunk, or in a fantastical amount of pain, chloe and i schlepped uptown (thanks, cuz) to cornell medical center on the upper east side, where I sat in the waiting room for five hours drinking hawaiian punch as the nurse asked me humiliating questions about my form in a room full of people. "katherine! who is katherine?!" she hollered.
"me." I said.
"your reason for being here, you wrote 'infection.' please clarify."
All eyez were on me. I walked over to her and clarified, in a low tone. she rolled her eyes, tucked the clipboard under her floppy arm, and disappeared into an office. finally i told chloe to go home because it was almost two in the morning, and i was lead to a private room where "ISOLATION 1: 1-143" was posted on the sign beside the puke-colored door.
once inside, I started listening to the cat stevens song "trouble" on repeat, simultaneously trying to wallow and not to think about the things that hurt.
The doctor finally came in, and obviously she was stunningly hot and i turned red cause i knew she could tell i'd been crying and she glanced down at the ipod in my hand and saw that i was listening to cat stevens, and i wanted to say "april fools!" and run. but instead, i took off my enormous jacket and changed into that stupid blue gown and laid back down on the table and she looked at me and made a sound like she had been kicked in the gut. "oh my God." she said.
"fuck," i thought, and remembered how dee advised me to pray more.
turns out i have ulcers and infections and really low blood pressure. she recommened that i spend the next week in a bath guzzling vicodin. instead, i'll spend a week hobbling around like a fucking maniac, guzzlng vicodin and praying.
so after battling my way through a week of classes and work at the web mag, and then a weekend at the office, trying my hardest not to seem weird, drunk, or in a fantastical amount of pain, chloe and i schlepped uptown (thanks, cuz) to cornell medical center on the upper east side, where I sat in the waiting room for five hours drinking hawaiian punch as the nurse asked me humiliating questions about my form in a room full of people. "katherine! who is katherine?!" she hollered.
"me." I said.
"your reason for being here, you wrote 'infection.' please clarify."
All eyez were on me. I walked over to her and clarified, in a low tone. she rolled her eyes, tucked the clipboard under her floppy arm, and disappeared into an office. finally i told chloe to go home because it was almost two in the morning, and i was lead to a private room where "ISOLATION 1: 1-143" was posted on the sign beside the puke-colored door.
once inside, I started listening to the cat stevens song "trouble" on repeat, simultaneously trying to wallow and not to think about the things that hurt.
The doctor finally came in, and obviously she was stunningly hot and i turned red cause i knew she could tell i'd been crying and she glanced down at the ipod in my hand and saw that i was listening to cat stevens, and i wanted to say "april fools!" and run. but instead, i took off my enormous jacket and changed into that stupid blue gown and laid back down on the table and she looked at me and made a sound like she had been kicked in the gut. "oh my God." she said.
"fuck," i thought, and remembered how dee advised me to pray more.
turns out i have ulcers and infections and really low blood pressure. she recommened that i spend the next week in a bath guzzling vicodin. instead, i'll spend a week hobbling around like a fucking maniac, guzzlng vicodin and praying.
# posted by Katie @ 3:04 AM 
