Week 8 was brown (sepia). The toe and heel of those socks are a pretty perfect match to the crayon.  I’m still catching up.

The medical fun just kept coming this week, but I’m not sure if I’m up to narrating all the activities (because when you are in the hospital and you have to REPEAT your story to every person (and there are many, many people) who comes in, the compulsion to share gets worn right down.  So, bullets, then?  Don’t mind if I do, thanks!

• Wednesday night – headache.  Very bad. Rash GETTING WORSE.
• Thursday morning – Nate is home sick, too. Again.  Make 11 a.m. doctor visit for him.
• Two minutes after that – H E A D A C H E.  Email doctor.
• Half hour later – phone.  My doctor, please go to the ER.  You didn’t TELL ME you had a bad headache.  You still have a fever?  YES?  You DO?  You didn’t TELL ME you had a headache.
• Hour later – Nate with his dad for day, SG bails on work and takes me to ER
• Two hours later – crying in the waiting area because my head? It hurts.  And so does my neck.
• You know what that means?
• It means I get to wait.
• Wait
• Wait
• Wait
• Get an IV in each arm and almost get pain medicine, but wait
• Watch two nurses working one on each arm draw out most of my blood.  For tests
• Wait
• Wait
• Morphine (think it will kill me dead, hate it, head still hurts)
• CT scan (if you keep your eyes closed the WHOLE time, it’s less terrifying.  If you aren’t claustrophobic, never mind)
• Turn down more morphine
• Turn down vicodin
• Ask for tylenol
• In comes doctor to do Spinal Tap
• Revise order, gulp vicodin just before the spinal starts
• Cry
• Curse
• Cry
• Love vicodin for the moment
• Cuss
• Lay flat on my back for an hour, talking to SG, who is missing classes to keep me company.  (This is a Big Deal.  I can’t even begin to make you understand how much of one.)
• Leave hospital 9 hours after we arrived
• Get Willow from Granny’s
• Go home
• Put Willow (who was worried that I was going to actually die) to bed.  She tells me Granny took her out for supper and that she had grilled cheese.  Also, she is glad to see me.
• SG comes home with In and Out and fries.  Yes again.  He does love me.  Little bit.
• Eat
• Sleep

So, I’m totally fine, but because my head was making me cry, the doctor wanted to be sure that my brain wasn’t infected.  Which, well, at one point I bet SG $100 that I did have meningitis because I was hurting so bad, but luckily I didn’t.  I think I did figure out why the headache, though.  As the doctor was doing the spinal, she remarked that it was taking a very, very looooong time for my CSF (cerebral spinal fluid – I worked in a neurosurgery office long enough to call it that in my normal vernacular) to fill up the four containers they needed.  I said, So, is it possible that I have this awful, awful headache because I’m dehydrated from having a fever for so long and I’m low on CSF, and I have a headache from that?  And will have another after this procedure?  You know, from being even lower on CSF?

Dude.  You should at least mix this shit with morphine.  Yuck.

When It was finally time to leave, I was a little wobbly and so SG led me by the elbow and shoulder through the back of the ER and to the exit.  We walked past a few other patient beds, and this older woman walked up to me, looking very concerned, and said, Hello, Dear.  How’s your wrist?  Is it better?

I looked at her, thinking she’d maybe look back and realize I wasn’t who she thought.  But her whole face looked like she was still waiting to hear an answer, so I just looked at her and looked at my wrist, and I said, Oh, it’s much, much better.  Thanks for checking on me.  Then we said goodnight and walked outside.

I’m feeling a whole hell of a lot better now, but I haven’t done much but rest the past couple of days.  SG took another day off on Friday, to take care of me, get Willow to school, pick everyone up, take me to get a birthday gift for Willow’s friend and then drive Willow to and from the party.  He took Nate with him to study and pick up a new gorgeous guitar.  My stepdad took Alex to the high school for a game, gave him money to get something to eat.  Sophie and I had a girl’s night: The Simpsons and pasta on the couch. 

This morning I took Willow to softball at 8:30 for the Hit-A-Thon and Opening Day.  She didn’t have a game, but she had the best hit on her whole entire team.  I smell a college scholarship and a whole lot of Saturday morning snack shack hot dogs for the next several years of springs.

Then we went to Soph’s first soccer game, where she nearly scored, but was shut out.  SG came down to the game on his motorcycle.  At one point, Willow was bored, so he let her put on his helmet and walk around.  And I stood there watching, thinking that I should get a picture, but I think the idea of pushing the shutter button was more than I could stand.  Too bad, because it was hilarious.

I was so insanely tired today.  Really.  We didn’t get home from all the sports until well after 2 and I had to nap.  But – it was a beautiful clear blue sky day and I was not in the hospital.  I only look like I should be.

Next weekend: road trip.  No kids.  Possibly even no more rash. 

If you are sick and even think about going to breathe on me this week, be prepared.