(no subject)
I can't remember exactly how I woke up this morning. Whether it was by myself or if the doctor woke me. Either way, I woke up in the hospital where I was born this morning. In my costume. Under a blanket from my psuedo-boyfriend's house. Missing one of my slippers. Without my coat or purse or cell phone. But my sequins were still attached with liquid latex.
I don't really remember being phased. I probably should have been. The doctor was there right away. Telling me why I was there. Which involved a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit. I had not been driving. They could discharge me, but some one had to come and pick me up. First I called my sister. Then I called my lover. No answers. So I crawled back into the bed. Then I remember that my parents were at work. And I called Mom. Who was relived to hear I was still alive. And probably floored to hear that I was at St. Joseph's. I fell back asleep waiting for them.
I had hospital food for breakfast. They insisted that I eat before being released. I gave them the milk back right away and told them I was lactose intolerant. My parents watched me eat. Then the nurse came by with my discharge papers and some booties since I only had one slipper.
My parents were kind enough to stop and get me a pack of cigarettes before bringing me home. Where they told me that I had to shower before they would let me have one. I smelled like the pleasant combination of a distillery and puke. Then they let me smoke in the garage rather than going outside. I floored my mother again when I poked my head in and asked her to call uncle Bob. Who said he'd bring me with him to a meeting.
We put the towel and blanket that I had awoken with in the laundry. And when those were done, we went over to my psuedo boyfriend's house to collect my coat and purse and cell phone. I found out then that Sarah Cook had gone with me to the hospital. I had gone in an ambulance. I had puked on the couch. I get to go back tomorrow and clean it up. And they gave me the train wreck award. Something they had made and determined to give to the person who got the most fucked up.
Sarah called me shortly after we got home. She told me that one minute I was fine and the next I wasn't. She thinks there is a possibility that someone slipped me something. I have no memory. She found me in the basement, in a corner, in the fetal position with a blanket over me, passed out. My pulse was light. She and E-Mo got me upstairs and outside, and induced me to puke a couple times. They were going to drive me to the hospital, but someone who had been an EMT insisted that they needed to call an ambulance. When that arrived they made me puke a couple more times. Sarah went with me to the hospital. She would have been there when I woke up, but the staff kicked her out at 6:30. I woke up shortly after 7:00.
I probably would have died last night if Sarah hadn't been there.
I don't really remember being phased. I probably should have been. The doctor was there right away. Telling me why I was there. Which involved a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit. I had not been driving. They could discharge me, but some one had to come and pick me up. First I called my sister. Then I called my lover. No answers. So I crawled back into the bed. Then I remember that my parents were at work. And I called Mom. Who was relived to hear I was still alive. And probably floored to hear that I was at St. Joseph's. I fell back asleep waiting for them.
I had hospital food for breakfast. They insisted that I eat before being released. I gave them the milk back right away and told them I was lactose intolerant. My parents watched me eat. Then the nurse came by with my discharge papers and some booties since I only had one slipper.
My parents were kind enough to stop and get me a pack of cigarettes before bringing me home. Where they told me that I had to shower before they would let me have one. I smelled like the pleasant combination of a distillery and puke. Then they let me smoke in the garage rather than going outside. I floored my mother again when I poked my head in and asked her to call uncle Bob. Who said he'd bring me with him to a meeting.
We put the towel and blanket that I had awoken with in the laundry. And when those were done, we went over to my psuedo boyfriend's house to collect my coat and purse and cell phone. I found out then that Sarah Cook had gone with me to the hospital. I had gone in an ambulance. I had puked on the couch. I get to go back tomorrow and clean it up. And they gave me the train wreck award. Something they had made and determined to give to the person who got the most fucked up.
Sarah called me shortly after we got home. She told me that one minute I was fine and the next I wasn't. She thinks there is a possibility that someone slipped me something. I have no memory. She found me in the basement, in a corner, in the fetal position with a blanket over me, passed out. My pulse was light. She and E-Mo got me upstairs and outside, and induced me to puke a couple times. They were going to drive me to the hospital, but someone who had been an EMT insisted that they needed to call an ambulance. When that arrived they made me puke a couple more times. Sarah went with me to the hospital. She would have been there when I woke up, but the staff kicked her out at 6:30. I woke up shortly after 7:00.
I probably would have died last night if Sarah hadn't been there.