Why haven't I posted? Funny you ask...
So, sit down everyone, because I have a fun story for you involving bears, hospitals, and blizzards!
This winter I decided to go to Midwest Bearfest, as my friend Mark had gotten a room at the host hotel early on and wanted to split costs. Carl, on the other hand, wanted to go until he realised that the host hotel had filled to capacity and that, even months before the event, an overflow hotel was required. He got pretty pouty about the fact and decided in the end not to go.
Late Saturday night I was involved with a William Brown podcast. Without my clothes. Well, a kippa still counts as "clothing," ne? :: laugh :: Well, lacking pants is a key detail here, as I didn't know until the podcast was over and the pants went back on, that I even got a voice mail. It was from Carl, and he had told me that he was being admitted for chest pain.
My face dropped and I started to panic. Despite the frequency of hospital visits for Carl, it doesn't make it any easier, and to make matters worse I suddenly felt trapped. How would I get to him? I couldn't obviously walk or carjack my way back to Peoria from Indianapolis, so what then do I do?
The answer is, apparently, to get piss drunk. My friend Cam from Canada was one of the first I told about what had happened, and he bought me a drink that did quite the job in kicking my ass. Yeah, this probably wasn't a good idea, as I later ran into a guy I know who is ... generally abrasive? He's not a dick, but I can see him coming off that way to a few people. He was being his abrasive self and I let loose on him, yelling at him in the bar and threatening to get violent. I think it threw him off-guard because a) he's never seen me drunk and b) I don't think he's ever seen me threatening to punch someone.
Because Carl was hospitalised we made our way back the next day. Well, we gave it our best. It turns out we took I-74 west, which was particularly hit badly by a blizzard. Mark's hands shook as he squeezed the wheel more, our environs getting worse as we continued towards Peoria. Cars and trucks littered the medians as we got into Illinois -- a semi completely flipped over was particularly shocking -- and visibility got worse as we got to Danville around seven at night. By that point in time, we got a call that Carl was released and on his way home, and we went on towards him after a brief rest.
I wouldn't see Carl that night either, as the roads developed into a complete whiteout, obscuring the road to the point where it had become completely invisible, our only indications being an occasional sign or a flipped over Toyota. It got to the point that Mark said, "We can't do this anymore," and we opted to get a hotel room in Champaign. It was a fantastic idea as we'd gotten into an accident more than once that night, and it took an hour and a half to travel a distance that normally only takes twenty.
That night, we went to a diner next to our hotel, and admittedly we were being rather loud and obnoxious. A man behind us suddenly got up and walked out in a rush, leaving us to wonder if we had chased him out. As the manager comes by we apologise if we had annoyed a customer, and she looked at us and gave a solemn shake.
"It's not that at all," she explained. "That man was on the road with his girlfriend when they got into an accident. They had gotten out of the car and she managed to get hit by another car and died on impact. His company got him a hotel nearby and he came in here for a bite, but realised that he probably needs to drink."
We were silent for a second as we were told this story -- for a change, I wish we DID chase someone off because we were annoying. It irked me == and perhaps selfishly -- because it could easily have been us. We almost hit at least one vehicle crashed in the middle of the road, nearly invisible to us until we had almost crashed into it, and it just gave me the chills.
We finally made it back Monday, and Carl, though released from the hospital, still complained about chest pains. So, just what was resolved during the first trip to the emergency room?? I couldn't tell you, but I had woken up for work the next day and Carl was on the couch, looking like hell, popping nitro tablets like they were Skittles. He had warned me that he would go back to the ER if the pain continued and, sure enough, while I was at work I received a text that told me he was picked up by an ambulance.
Despite Carl's constant bragging that he has better cholesterol than me (and it's likely -- look at all the bacon I eat!!), it turns out one of his major arteries was 95% blocked, requiring a stint. I admit I was a bit surprised by this; yes, I work with douches who said the equivalent of, "Well he's fat! How is this surprising?", but the doctors prior to this told him that blockage was highly unlikely -- thank God for the angiogram proving otherwise!
He seems better now -- he was just released an hour ago from the hospital -- but yeah, I'm pretty done with the whole hospital spiel. Something seriously needs to change, as this can't keep happening.
This winter I decided to go to Midwest Bearfest, as my friend Mark had gotten a room at the host hotel early on and wanted to split costs. Carl, on the other hand, wanted to go until he realised that the host hotel had filled to capacity and that, even months before the event, an overflow hotel was required. He got pretty pouty about the fact and decided in the end not to go.
Late Saturday night I was involved with a William Brown podcast. Without my clothes. Well, a kippa still counts as "clothing," ne? :: laugh :: Well, lacking pants is a key detail here, as I didn't know until the podcast was over and the pants went back on, that I even got a voice mail. It was from Carl, and he had told me that he was being admitted for chest pain.
My face dropped and I started to panic. Despite the frequency of hospital visits for Carl, it doesn't make it any easier, and to make matters worse I suddenly felt trapped. How would I get to him? I couldn't obviously walk or carjack my way back to Peoria from Indianapolis, so what then do I do?
The answer is, apparently, to get piss drunk. My friend Cam from Canada was one of the first I told about what had happened, and he bought me a drink that did quite the job in kicking my ass. Yeah, this probably wasn't a good idea, as I later ran into a guy I know who is ... generally abrasive? He's not a dick, but I can see him coming off that way to a few people. He was being his abrasive self and I let loose on him, yelling at him in the bar and threatening to get violent. I think it threw him off-guard because a) he's never seen me drunk and b) I don't think he's ever seen me threatening to punch someone.
Because Carl was hospitalised we made our way back the next day. Well, we gave it our best. It turns out we took I-74 west, which was particularly hit badly by a blizzard. Mark's hands shook as he squeezed the wheel more, our environs getting worse as we continued towards Peoria. Cars and trucks littered the medians as we got into Illinois -- a semi completely flipped over was particularly shocking -- and visibility got worse as we got to Danville around seven at night. By that point in time, we got a call that Carl was released and on his way home, and we went on towards him after a brief rest.
I wouldn't see Carl that night either, as the roads developed into a complete whiteout, obscuring the road to the point where it had become completely invisible, our only indications being an occasional sign or a flipped over Toyota. It got to the point that Mark said, "We can't do this anymore," and we opted to get a hotel room in Champaign. It was a fantastic idea as we'd gotten into an accident more than once that night, and it took an hour and a half to travel a distance that normally only takes twenty.
That night, we went to a diner next to our hotel, and admittedly we were being rather loud and obnoxious. A man behind us suddenly got up and walked out in a rush, leaving us to wonder if we had chased him out. As the manager comes by we apologise if we had annoyed a customer, and she looked at us and gave a solemn shake.
"It's not that at all," she explained. "That man was on the road with his girlfriend when they got into an accident. They had gotten out of the car and she managed to get hit by another car and died on impact. His company got him a hotel nearby and he came in here for a bite, but realised that he probably needs to drink."
We were silent for a second as we were told this story -- for a change, I wish we DID chase someone off because we were annoying. It irked me == and perhaps selfishly -- because it could easily have been us. We almost hit at least one vehicle crashed in the middle of the road, nearly invisible to us until we had almost crashed into it, and it just gave me the chills.
We finally made it back Monday, and Carl, though released from the hospital, still complained about chest pains. So, just what was resolved during the first trip to the emergency room?? I couldn't tell you, but I had woken up for work the next day and Carl was on the couch, looking like hell, popping nitro tablets like they were Skittles. He had warned me that he would go back to the ER if the pain continued and, sure enough, while I was at work I received a text that told me he was picked up by an ambulance.
Despite Carl's constant bragging that he has better cholesterol than me (and it's likely -- look at all the bacon I eat!!), it turns out one of his major arteries was 95% blocked, requiring a stint. I admit I was a bit surprised by this; yes, I work with douches who said the equivalent of, "Well he's fat! How is this surprising?", but the doctors prior to this told him that blockage was highly unlikely -- thank God for the angiogram proving otherwise!
He seems better now -- he was just released an hour ago from the hospital -- but yeah, I'm pretty done with the whole hospital spiel. Something seriously needs to change, as this can't keep happening.