Conversations With Mother

God love my mother. For all of the things she does that annoy me to no end, she really does love me.

This past Sunday I had to make a little trip to the ER because I was having intense pains in my side that lasted for two days. My honey stayed with the boys so I just drove myself. I went about noon thinking they'd do an ultra-sound, tell me everything was okay, give me some pain pills and send me on my way.

I get called back pretty quick considering I've waited five hours before when my son needed stitches in his face. The doctor came in about thirty minutes after that and poked around on my side and declared he suspected a kidney stone and pain medicine was on the way. In the mean time he would order a CT and we would go from there.

The nurse comes in and starts laying out the stuff for an IV. She tries to do it in my left arm and can't get in the vein. So next she tries my forearm and gets nothing their either. She calls in another nurse who puts one in my hand and the vein blows. Moving on to the other arm and we finally have a line. She's got three ginormous syringes and I ask her about each one just out of natural medical curiosity. First is saline...she's flushing the line...second is Toradol which is an anti-inflammatory (crappiest shot ever) and then the third which should be carried on a gold plated tray. Dilaudid. Allow me to put this wonderful gift to mankind into perspective: this was Elvis' drug of choice.

Come to mama.

So basically I'm out of it. I remember talking to someone in my family, but can't remember who and I remember randomly drunk calling all my friends. At some point the CT happened. Couple hours later, the doctor comes whizzing by my door, turns around and comes back to inform me he's got me some more pain meds on the way. I instantly fell in love and if loving him is wrong I don't want to be right.

Second shot occurs. Doctor comes in and informs me he needs to do another CT but he needs to do it with the dye. I have to drink a gallon of hell, wait two hours, then repeat the CT.

Sure. Whatever. Do what you have to do Doc, but in the meantime I'm going to step outside and smoke.

At least I thought I was until Mr. I couldn't hack it in medical school so I'm Head Nurse of the ER informed me that if I went outside, I would not be allowed back in. Some asshole decided that it was too much of a liability to let patients outside if they've had a narcotic.

Flash forward to 7:00 pm. Add seven hours, five IV's, and not one morsel of food or drink since the night before except the syrup I had to drink, no nicotine and it all equals emotional wreck. I called my mother crying.

"I'm starving to death and they won't let me have anything to eat or drink." I wail.

"Well baby, why don't you just explain that you weren't expecting to be there that long and you didn't eat before you went?" my mother asks.

"Because it won't do any good. I have to take this test. And on top of that, they wont let me go outside and smoke!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to lose it. At least a cigarette would curb my appetite. "

"Do you have a window in your room?" She asks hopefully.

"Mother, I am not hanging out of a window at a hospital to smoke a cigarette. Aside from the fact that I might blow the hospital up, I would look like a bigger redneck than I already do for smoking."

"Do you think the doctor knows the nurse told you no? Maybe you could ask him?" She insisted.

"Mother, I'm going to hang up with you now because you keep giving me suggestions that really shouldn't require an explanation and it's getting on my nerves." I informed her as nicely as I possibly could considering the circumstances.

"Okay baby, but you tell that doctor you want a cigarette when he walks by and I mean it. I can't stand the thought of you sittin' up there wanting one and them not letting you have it."