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I pissed him off. Pissed him off good. I don't know what sent him over the edge. Maybe it was my off-color, sacreligious sense of humour. Whatever it was, one thing is clear - the great skyfairy wants hardcore vengeance, and he wants it now. Let's educate you on whats happened so far. If you don't want to read, I'll summarise it for you in the next two words.
I wake up at 4:30am feeling like my kidneys hijacked bulldozers and went apeshit on my abdomen. I assume I am either really fuck hungry, or constipated to the max. I stumble to the kitchen, grab a peach, take a dump, and go back to bed. I feel slightly better.
I wake up again at 6:30. Something's definitely up. My kidneys; unsatisfied with the carnage caused by bulldozers; have commandeered tanks and started burning down the Reichstag that is my middle half. I am in serious pain. In my infinite wisdom, I decide to ignore it, still thinking I might just be hungry or constipated.
It's now 10:30. Screw university, I'm not going; not while my organs are having a civil war. I drive up to the medical center and take a seat. "There'll be a two hour wait - the doctors running late," she says. I'm in severe pain by now.
It's 11:30. Sitting up is getting unbearable. I ask to lie down on a bed somewhere, and the receptionist lady obliges. Angry geriatrics envy my special treatment. I feel powerful.
It's 12:00 or sometime, when bang. Holy mother fuck of shit. Raw, intense pain. Someone just Nagasaki'ed my bowel. A doctor comes in and watches me writhe in pain. He asks, "Are you ok?" I reply, "My stomach is on fire." He pushes on my abdomen, then my lower right abdomen. I nearly go catatonic and grip his hand. Wup-wow.
Maybe ten minutes later I'm in an ambulance with a morphine needle in my bum. Morphine is great. I remembered the old people's faces of disgust at my special treatment. It makes me smile. All is good in the world.
I rock up to hospital. A doctor comes and assesses me. He is not happy. He has a monobrow though, so I need not respect him. I get more drugs. I go to sleep.
I wake up and its night. Monobrow tells me they've called in the surgeon from dinner with her husband to do emergency surgery on my appendix which has ruptured and caused perotonitis. 10% mortality rate in healthy patients. Good, I like a challenge.
I am prepped for surgery. Nurses wheel me into the operating theatre late that night. Just before my bed enters the operating room, an attending stops me. She says they havn't done the pre-check on my details. She checks my wrist band. It says Mrs Finch, Jessica. "Mrs Finch, Jessica" has no allergies. Lucky her. I on the other hand, am deathly allergic to penicillin. Penicillin had been put on my treatment schedule. They take another ten minutes to correct things. My confidence is not great. My last words to the attending doctors is, "I'm glad someone knows what they're doing." I recognise a monobrow above one of the attending's masks. I smile. I don't even feel the anasthethic. I go to sleep.
I wake up early in the morning. It is around 5am. I feel sleepy as shit. Someone is standing above me. It takes me a few seconds to make sense of the face. It's an ex-girlfriend's mum wearing a nurses uniform. Then it hits me.
She's going to smother me with a pillow...fuck
My eyes close again and I fall back asleep. I had survived. Boy was I on a roll.
It's 9am. The operating doctor comes to see me. She says she removed widespread infection covering my entire mid section with a particularly bad infection in parts of my abdomen and kidney. Apparently, my left kidney was displaced so as to be directly adjacent to the perforation where the infection originated. Smooth move God you cunning bastard. Luckily for me, my other kidney was having a picnic up north during the whole ordeal. You're fault for giving me two you sneaky son of a bitch.
12 hours from death she estimates. Groovy, I feel pretty good. "That's because you have morphine in your drip." Fantastic. Bring me some pie and I will be content.
The doctor leaves. I fall asleep.
It is mid afternoon. A nurse is changing my canular. A canular is the big tube in your arm that the drip connects to. I watch her take it off and replace it with a new canular. She then leaves. I turn away and fall asleep.
Woops. She didn't put the valve on. Bad, bad girl.
You see, veins have valves. This stops blood from flowing backwards in your body. Essentially, the liquid in my drip stopped going in and blood started coming out.
A good half hour later a nurse walks in. She wakes me and runs out the room. I have a quick look around and glance my bed. It is soaked in blood. It's soaked through my clothes, through my sheets, through the mattress. Everything. My left arm is stained entirely on one side. I lift my arm and leave an arm print of white. The nurses come back. Goodbye consciousness. To sleep again I go.
I wake up. I am not bleeding or dying. This makes me happy. I look out the window. I shrink back into my pillow. God's just getting warmed up.
The nurses bring me jelly and only jelly. It is all I can eat. Jelly begins to become the nutritional equivalent of abortion. It is the disastrous mess of what was once sweet sweet glucose. I am taken off the morphine. This saddens me. I am given a different painkiller.
I have it in my hands and think to ask the nurse what it has in it.
Great. Why not arsenic? Maybe a dash of cyanide? Hey let's just fire an RPG point-blank into my cerebellum and call it a fuck day. I once again remind them I will die if I have penicillin.
"But it says you're not allergic."
Really? Shit me. And to think I've been misinformed all these years. I'm glad the people who had me undergoing surgery as a married woman of 40 odd years are on the ball with their clip boards. In that case just put the tablet in my drip. Maybe I'll have a stroke, and maybe you'll have a stroke of common fuck sense. Everybody wins.
I want to know everything. I want to go everywhere. I want to fuck everyone in the world. I want to do something that matters.
At 8/25/07 02:15 PM, Jimmy-jackass wrote: Oh dear...I thought story threads were banned now?
SO WHAT? WE MUST FIGHT THE MAN,MAAAN
Thank you McFooFa for the smexy dragon siggy :3
At 8/25/07 02:15 PM, braydon10 wrote:At 8/25/07 02:15 PM, Jimmy-jackass wrote: Oh dear...I thought story threads were banned now?SO WHAT? WE MUST FIGHT THE MAN,MAAAN
....GET A JOB!
It's night time. I have visitors. Visitors makes me happy. A queer and weird nurse enters the room and tells me I need a heparin needle. It's a blood thinner which prevents deep vein thrombosis. Sounds good to me. She interjects in the conversation with a god-awful joke. I comment, "Sorry, that one went over my head." She is not impressed and gives us all a funny look. As she's leaving, I make a comment about her strangeness. Out of the blue she says, "I heard that," and just stares at me.
Then she left without incident.
No, as if that could happen. God's fuck aggro remember? She turns off the light and closes the door and says "fine". The whole room plunges into darkness. I'm serious. She left me in a hospital bed with my visitors in pitch black darkness like you'd expect an eleven year old would.
"Weren't you meant to get a needle?" says my friend.
Oh yeah. Lookin' forward to that puppy now.
My friend's stumble around and find the light switch, muttering about this nurse. My friend's girlfriend trips on my drip on the way out.
I joke, "Hopefully I won't die from the soup aye?" I smiled at this. I am happy. I am jovial. Life is good. I am, of course, referring light heartedly to the penicillin incident. Note to self: never assume nurses will understand anything, including their nurse training.
"Wait, has your doctor cleared you to eat heavier food?"
I am still calm. The soup is still on the tray. It is steaming away, just waiting for me.
"She said I could."
The nurse walks over and picks up my file attached to its clip board.
"She hasn't written anything down."
Everything changes. I am not smiling anymore. My soup is in jeopardy here. I would do anything to have it. I can't have any more jelly. I just can't.
"I'm sure it'll be fine. Please?"
The nurse tries to ring the doctor. I beg her to pick up, but she doesn't.
"We'll have to keep you on your current diet until we can get in contact with her."
I eye the soup still on the tray. The lunch lady wants to get a move on and finish her rounds. I consider making a dive for the soup and ingesting what I can in an orgiastic display of chicken-flavoured self satisfaction. The pain in my abdomen dictates otherwise
"So you'll call in a few hours?" I ask.
You conniving bastard God. You absolute conniving bastard.
"No, we won't be able to contact her until Monday morning."
I wanted to scream. I watched my soup as it was taken away on a cold steel tray. The stolen generation of soup. The smell would linger in the air for hours. God's cruel reminder of what I could have had.
I rolled over to my other side. The half finished cup of jelly that had been resting in my lap spilled onto my canular.
That was it. Enough was enough. God wanted me dead and buried. I had only one course of action to take.
I looked out the window.
I rolled back over. I was full of rage. There was some hardcore religious retribution to be had.
Then, a voice. Eerily familiar. I heard the distinct words, "Don't mind covering you for tonight."
It was the unmistakeable peachyness of psycho nurse.
The bitch was back.
It's 3am. Someone is waking me. It is dark. I am afraid. It's psycho nurse. She touches my shoulder. I think I want to die.
"I thought I'd come check on you."
Oh sweet deal. I too wake others up at ridiculous times of the night to check on their state of mind. Maybe next time bring a fuck air horn. Entertain the whole ward. I tell her I'm fine and just want to sleep. She just looks at me. There's a screw loose in her brain, that's for sure. I close my eyes for sleep again.
"We've restricted your visitors so you can rest easier," she says.
You can't be serious. How can the hospital restrict who I can and can't see? I am still calm. I ask who it is restricted too.
"Hospital staff only."
No way. No fuck way. Psycho nurse smiles again and leaves. You sly son of a bitch God. In cutting off my supply line to the outside world the situation becomes painfully clear. My room has become Stalingrad. Shit is definitely going to hit the fan. There is going to be a domestic. It takes the anger a long time to fade. I fall asleep.
I wake in the early afternoon. A nurse is standing over me. She holds in her pudgy hands 3 jelly cups. She is not happy. She has more chins than fingers, so I need not respect her.
"I found these in the cupboard."
I tell her I put them there. With my hands. All by myself.
This is fucking sweet. Bookmarked.
Keep it coming!
This signature makes use of various clichés and/or 'emotional' lyrics/quotes, hopefully it makes me appear deep.
At 8/25/07 02:34 PM, Wizard-Lock wrote: Then Hitler walked in and they day was saved.
Oh you wish is was that simple :O
Wow this is quite the story you have here, so what happened next?
At 8/25/07 02:29 PM, ZENON wrote: This is fucking sweet. Bookmarked.
Seconded. I can relate to some of this, as well.
Please click here. You'd make my fiance` happy... Please?
I'm a voice actor, and I love what I do. I'm also a writer, and love that just as much.