MP: Sometimes You Have to Change Your Plans.
Yesterday morning I got up late feeling agitated, after not enough sleep. I had a huge list of things I wanted to accomplish, not enough hours in the day to do them, and a general sense of anxiety about it all. I had writing to do for my D&D group, writing to do for Fallen Leaves, writing to do on my o-fic so I can sell it and make some money. Also there were doctor's appointments to make, DMV issues to deal with, bank statements to reconcile... But I made myself take the morning routine one step at a time, begrudging every one of the necessary actions that were the prelude to getting to work on writing for the day. I snarled my way through brushing my teeth, resented my shower, ate breakfast with disdain. Then I finally sat down at the computer, prepared to get to work, and the phone rang.
It was jbmcdragon calling to ask if she could ruin my plans for the day. That's actually what she said. "Hi, Nezu. I was hoping I could ruin your plans for the afternoon." I love JB.
Her dog bite looked worse, and she needed a ride to a doctor's appointment, and to get groceries. Of course I said yes. Infected animal bite to the hand? I'd been there. And if there is one thing true about me it's this: I will never refuse a friend in need.
JB lives about a forty minute drive south of me, so, given the time of her appointment, I just had time to write a couple paragraphs before I left for her house. But man, got there and her hand was seriously swollen. So we went to her doctor's office and sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes while she filled out paperwork and we waited to be seen. The we spent another 45 minutes waiting in the exam room. Fortunately we are fond of each other and kept each other entertained with good conversation.
The doc finally appeared, took one look at JB's hand, and said she needed to go back to the hospital to be admitted for IV antibiotics. Oi. So we go back to JB's house so she can let the dogs out for a bit of a run, feed them, pack an overnight bag, call her clients to cancel appointments, call her neighbors to watch her dogs overnight...
We got to the ER at about 5:30. I texted owldolatrous to say I wasn't going to make it to D&D. We waited. Fortunately the ER wasn't insanely busy and they saw her pretty quickly. Vitals, then off to an ER bed, where she had to change into the most absurdly oversized hospital gown ever. I know, because I tied the strings for her, and OMG, you could have fit three more JB's in there with her.
Nurse Irritable came to check a few things. She was tall, broad, and dykish enough that she tripped my gaydar. I think she was pissy because she thought I was JB's girlfriend, and was jealous. Or that's the story I'm telling myself anyway, because it amuses me. then Dr. McJovial showed up. Older gent, with a very folksy, breezy manner. He cut open the stitches and scrubbed out the wounds with so little gentleness it was painful to watch. Poor JB took it like a true warrior, and only had to snarl at the doctor to give her a break when the pain got too intense a couple of times. I fed JB peanut M&M's while the doctor worked, because she was hungry and chocolate is a good reward for brave soldiering.
Dr. McJovial left her to rest, with some Betadyne-drenched gauze over the wounds. Then Nurse Irritable came with the shot of OMG antibiotics for poor JB's behind. Then we waited some more. Now, at least, JB could take her mind off the pain in her hand by focusing on the pain in her ass (and no, I don't mean me. I was delightful and entertaining company, thank you very much.) Nurse I came back again with a horse choker of an antibiotic pill which she assured JB would not upset her stomach.
Right.
Eventually they gave JB a prescription, instructions to return for a re-check in the morning, and sent us on our way. We went to get some food. It was 8:30. Olive Garden sounded good to JB, but there was a half hour wait. Twenty minutes into that half hour, the antibiotic upset JB's stomach. She waved her gauze-mummified hand at them, looked pale, whispered about having just left the hospital and needing some bread. They brought breadsticks. We took them outside and she ate them slowly, once she quit feeling like she was about to hurl. They sort of helped, but she decided Olive Garden was too greasy for her sadly abused system, so we aborted that plan and went to get groceries instead.
After groceries, we drove all over Hell's half acre trying to find a pharmacy that would fill a prescription after nine-thirty. Three CVSs and a few miles later, we found the 24-hour one...
Three blocks from her apartment.
While we waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription, we toured the nail polish aisle. Eventually we were both so weary we had to just sit down. They'd promised to announce over the loudspeaker when the prescription was ready.
They didn't.
Forty-five minutes later, when we'd reached the end of our patience, we went to inquire. The night pharmacist was the most unhappy. hating-his-job, troll-like little old man I've encountered in at least a year. He begrudgingly gave JB her medicine, and at last I took her home.
We let the dogs out. I cleaned her kitchen. We cooked her some soup. Her neighbors came over, drunk, and exclaimed about her poor hand and my awesome hair. We rebandaged her hand. She ate her soup and took her medicine. Half an hour before midnight, I bid her adieu and headed home. At this point I'd eaten nothing but my bowl of Chex that morning. I promised myself tacos. Taco Bell drive-thru across from my apartment is open till 2:00 AM. Usually.
They were closed. I whined and went to McDonalds, bought three hamburgers and no fries. Drove to 7-11 and got a Coke Slurpee (because, vexingly, the blue Mountain Dew flavor wasn't frozen!) and got home at... I have no idea when I got home. After midnight. I watched Tivo'd Project Runway while I ate my junk food, and finally got into bed about 2:20 AM.
And now it's a new day.
15:30 - JB texted me a few hours ago: She was at the hospital for her recheck. Her hand was still swollen but the wounds looked okay, so they were giving her some IV antibiotics and taking X-rays. I'll post an update when I know anything.
20:50 - JB is home. Her hand is not broken, but the infection continues to be a problem. At the hospital they called in a hand surgeon to debride the wounds, gave her additional and more serious painkillers, and packed the wounds with wet-to-dry dressings (look them up if you're not squeamish. I've had them, and they aren't as dreadful as they sound) and told her to come back on Monday for another recheck, as long as it doesn't get worse. She sounded drugged but okay. Her dad is flying up tomorrow morning to look after her, and she said she was fine for the night. I'm trusting her on this.
It was jbmcdragon calling to ask if she could ruin my plans for the day. That's actually what she said. "Hi, Nezu. I was hoping I could ruin your plans for the afternoon." I love JB.
Her dog bite looked worse, and she needed a ride to a doctor's appointment, and to get groceries. Of course I said yes. Infected animal bite to the hand? I'd been there. And if there is one thing true about me it's this: I will never refuse a friend in need.
JB lives about a forty minute drive south of me, so, given the time of her appointment, I just had time to write a couple paragraphs before I left for her house. But man, got there and her hand was seriously swollen. So we went to her doctor's office and sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes while she filled out paperwork and we waited to be seen. The we spent another 45 minutes waiting in the exam room. Fortunately we are fond of each other and kept each other entertained with good conversation.
The doc finally appeared, took one look at JB's hand, and said she needed to go back to the hospital to be admitted for IV antibiotics. Oi. So we go back to JB's house so she can let the dogs out for a bit of a run, feed them, pack an overnight bag, call her clients to cancel appointments, call her neighbors to watch her dogs overnight...
We got to the ER at about 5:30. I texted owldolatrous to say I wasn't going to make it to D&D. We waited. Fortunately the ER wasn't insanely busy and they saw her pretty quickly. Vitals, then off to an ER bed, where she had to change into the most absurdly oversized hospital gown ever. I know, because I tied the strings for her, and OMG, you could have fit three more JB's in there with her.
Nurse Irritable came to check a few things. She was tall, broad, and dykish enough that she tripped my gaydar. I think she was pissy because she thought I was JB's girlfriend, and was jealous. Or that's the story I'm telling myself anyway, because it amuses me. then Dr. McJovial showed up. Older gent, with a very folksy, breezy manner. He cut open the stitches and scrubbed out the wounds with so little gentleness it was painful to watch. Poor JB took it like a true warrior, and only had to snarl at the doctor to give her a break when the pain got too intense a couple of times. I fed JB peanut M&M's while the doctor worked, because she was hungry and chocolate is a good reward for brave soldiering.
Dr. McJovial left her to rest, with some Betadyne-drenched gauze over the wounds. Then Nurse Irritable came with the shot of OMG antibiotics for poor JB's behind. Then we waited some more. Now, at least, JB could take her mind off the pain in her hand by focusing on the pain in her ass (and no, I don't mean me. I was delightful and entertaining company, thank you very much.) Nurse I came back again with a horse choker of an antibiotic pill which she assured JB would not upset her stomach.
Right.
Eventually they gave JB a prescription, instructions to return for a re-check in the morning, and sent us on our way. We went to get some food. It was 8:30. Olive Garden sounded good to JB, but there was a half hour wait. Twenty minutes into that half hour, the antibiotic upset JB's stomach. She waved her gauze-mummified hand at them, looked pale, whispered about having just left the hospital and needing some bread. They brought breadsticks. We took them outside and she ate them slowly, once she quit feeling like she was about to hurl. They sort of helped, but she decided Olive Garden was too greasy for her sadly abused system, so we aborted that plan and went to get groceries instead.
After groceries, we drove all over Hell's half acre trying to find a pharmacy that would fill a prescription after nine-thirty. Three CVSs and a few miles later, we found the 24-hour one...
Three blocks from her apartment.
While we waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription, we toured the nail polish aisle. Eventually we were both so weary we had to just sit down. They'd promised to announce over the loudspeaker when the prescription was ready.
They didn't.
Forty-five minutes later, when we'd reached the end of our patience, we went to inquire. The night pharmacist was the most unhappy. hating-his-job, troll-like little old man I've encountered in at least a year. He begrudgingly gave JB her medicine, and at last I took her home.
We let the dogs out. I cleaned her kitchen. We cooked her some soup. Her neighbors came over, drunk, and exclaimed about her poor hand and my awesome hair. We rebandaged her hand. She ate her soup and took her medicine. Half an hour before midnight, I bid her adieu and headed home. At this point I'd eaten nothing but my bowl of Chex that morning. I promised myself tacos. Taco Bell drive-thru across from my apartment is open till 2:00 AM. Usually.
They were closed. I whined and went to McDonalds, bought three hamburgers and no fries. Drove to 7-11 and got a Coke Slurpee (because, vexingly, the blue Mountain Dew flavor wasn't frozen!) and got home at... I have no idea when I got home. After midnight. I watched Tivo'd Project Runway while I ate my junk food, and finally got into bed about 2:20 AM.
And now it's a new day.
15:30 - JB texted me a few hours ago: She was at the hospital for her recheck. Her hand was still swollen but the wounds looked okay, so they were giving her some IV antibiotics and taking X-rays. I'll post an update when I know anything.
20:50 - JB is home. Her hand is not broken, but the infection continues to be a problem. At the hospital they called in a hand surgeon to debride the wounds, gave her additional and more serious painkillers, and packed the wounds with wet-to-dry dressings (look them up if you're not squeamish. I've had them, and they aren't as dreadful as they sound) and told her to come back on Monday for another recheck, as long as it doesn't get worse. She sounded drugged but okay. Her dad is flying up tomorrow morning to look after her, and she said she was fine for the night. I'm trusting her on this.