There is much to be said for hospitals. Like, “What’s that terrible smell?” -and- “You’re gonna put what in my WHAT?!?”
And there is even more to be said for hospital waiting rooms. Like, “Excuse me ma’am, but why is your screaming child not wearing a muzzle? And has he had his rabies shots?”
I am a great admirer of medical professionals, don’t get me wrong. I just prefer to admire them from afar. From very far afar.
However, my husband likes to get up close and personal with the White Coats and the Scrubs on a fairly regular basis. (Just between you and me, I think the whole female-nurse-snapping-on-gloves thing just does it for him. I married a man with a medical fetish. Figures.) So today’s blog entry – which is being typed at a speed of 12 words per minute on my hideous new phone, because touchscreens SUCK, and not in that awesome “Oh God baby YES don’t stop don’t stop!” kind of way – is brought to you by the letter F, for FUCK do I hate hospitals(!), and by the number 57. Because that’s how many mistakes I’ve made so far in this… well, whatever this is. This literary masterpiece.
Oh, and I am blogging from a hospital, in case that wasn’t obvious.
Because in addition to his mad crush on Nurse Ratchet, my husband has decided to give breath play a go and is having a tube shoved down his throat this afternoon. Which means he needs a designated driver when he’s finished.
Madame la Feve: Designated Driver Extraordinaire
Just don’t ask me how we get home from here. Because I have NO. IDEA.
I also have no idea why my screen will highlight words at random and then not allow me to bold them. Hmmm… The tecknologees. They doth suck.
You know, I had a point when I started writing. I just have zero recollection at this point of what that might have been.
When I remember, I’ll be back.
Meanwhile, I am in the process of a major move. So I may be scarce for awhile. But I will be checking in as regularly as possible and should be back to posting on a normal basis (for whatever that’s worth) by Christmas. Til then, may your season be merry and bright.
And to all, a good night! ????
hope all goes well for smotch *hugs*
It went well, thanks!
So do you play Nurse to his Patient…
I somehow figure not….
Have a wonderful Festival Season blossom
Your erudite, succicnt, pithy prose does it for me….
Haha! Nope. Florence Nightengale, I am not. (I posted about that once, actually. I’d link you but I’m still on my phone and haven’t figured that out yet.)
I am not *quite* feeling up to my usual holiday snuff – not yet – but getting these boxes unpacked will put me in a much more festive mood. 🙂
I hope you don’t stay scarce long, Ms. Fever. Love your ramblings… Merry Christmas! 🙂
Merry Christmas, Joel!
Happy Christmas and good luck to the patient.
The patient is back to his usual self at this point. Thank you for your good wishes. It was quick and relatively painless. (For him too. 😉 )
Merry Christmas! 🙂
If you use wrapping paper on the moving boxes you can pretend that Santa was extra generous. Now where were those cookies and milk, or does he get a hard sticky candy cane?
I will likely not be making cookies, but gluten-free brownies are on the to-do list for tomorrow. 🙂 So is decorating the Christmas tree. My “sticky” plans are for the weekend. 😛
I’ll say one thing, that all the other folks awaiting medical attention in that room are probably very thankful that you’ve chosen to type rambling messages into your phone rather than calling distant pals or relatives to yammer endlessly and volubly about all of your problems. I really like when that happens.
Luckily, the waiting room pretty much only contained people who were there as designated drivers, as we were in a specialty department. So it was probably the quietest wait I’ve ever experienced.
And, for the record, I *never* yammer. At least not on the phone.
Well, okay I *do* but never in public. I am not an exhibitonist yammerer. 😉
And thankfully, neither were the other DD’s.
I did, however, get to listen to the gals at the reception desk repeat the same message 247 times as they placed calls to tomorrow’s patients. “Hello, this is a courtesy call to remind _______________ of his/her appointment with _______________ tomorrow at…”
o_O
I have a tremendous appreciation for people who can manage repetitive and monotonous tasks. I would need to be heavily sedated to do a job like that.
I’m happy he’s all good…and that you made it through too!