My Unfortunate Incarceration Pt. 2

Welcome back. Isn't this serialized style a lot of fun? I don't have the time to write a "previously in Brian's posts" section like they do at the beginning of your favorite TV shows, so if you missed any of yesterday's thrilling saga, I suggest you scroll down and catch up.

When we last left our hero, (it's best to read this sentence with a dramatic announcer voice in your head. It's easy for me since head voices are my constant companions) he was traveling through the night to the Emergency Room to seek treatment for a yet unknown ailment.

OK, enough of the drama, here's the deal. "Wife" and I got to the ER and much to my glee only had to wait about ten minutes before I was called back to a room. Those ten minutes gave me time to pretend I was a big media mogul and blow in a call to my producer Lindsey to make sure that everything was covered for the show. After being assured that the world would in fact keep turning without me (though I hoped a little more wobbly) I headed back to my patient holding pen. In hospital parlance I was entrenched in "curtain 19" and began my wait. Nothing is more humiliating than having to put on a hospital gown. Nothing except realizing that in your haste to leave the house, you had not changed your underwear from the "really broken in" pair you were sporting all day to the kind of briefs your mom had always warned you to wear in case of a car wreck. I am a big guy. This is a fact that will bare repeating throughout this tale since it seems that like airplane seats and mesh T-shirts, hospital equipment is designed for the small of stature. Take for instance the lovely gown I was given. It would have fit "Daughter" nicely, but I looked like the Hulk after getting angry. Luckily I knew that I could not have been the biggest patient to ever grace the ER and asked for and was given a bigger covering. I use the term "covering" loosely because with a bigger gown comes a bigger opening in the back to display my sweet man seat.

I'm realizing that since the ER part of this story took almost seven hours, to give you all the details would involve the type of reading commitment usually reserved for English Lit students. I'll have to gloss over some things and hit the highlights. After being on the world's most uncomfortable gurney (here's a design tip, slick plastic, cold metal and a huge man don't make for a mattress that will stay in place) for an hour the doctor came in, poked me a while and then began to give me a litany of all the horrible things that could be lurking in my belly. He surmised that my ailment could be anything from a blockage, to an alien buried deep in my colon waiting to burst forth and suck the life out of all earthly inhabitants. Being a man of science, the doctor ordered a CT Scan so that they could take a gander at my organs to better diagnose my malady and rule out the existence of my being host to a being that threatened life on this planet. "Wife" sat patiently with me through the whole episode buoyed by the fact that her chair was close to the nurse's station allowing her access to all types of juicy gossip.

I had the CT Scan which would have been uneventful except for the introduction of dye into the proceedings. The technician was very nice and informative and explained to me that she would be injecting dye into my I.V. so that the CT machine could better discern my insides. I tried to block out the fact that my lower body was being passed through a machine that bore a big radiation warning sticker and focus instead on the miracles of modern science. She also told me that some people get a bad taste in their mouths from the dye and a few have a bad reaction. You know me, I always like to be in the select group. No sooner had the dye coursed through my veins than "Ralph and Earl" came a callin' . Remember before when I said nothing was more humiliating than wearing a hospital gown? I'd like to amend that to include hanging off a CT machine, ass in the air, hurling into a pan while trying not to roll off onto the floor. After the test I was taken to another room in the ER to wait for the results. This room had a gurney so narrow that I think Mary Lou Retton may have won a medal on it. Talk about comfort. After what seemed like an eternity during which I was sure NASA and other government agencies were being summoned for alien pickup, a new doctor came in and delivered the news.

Oooh, it would be dramatic to stop here wouldn't it? I'd be like Ryan Seacrest making you wait until after the break for results. Since I always want to punch Seacrest in his smug little face when he does that, I'll tell you what happened. The doctor told me that it appeared I was suffering from a bout of diverticulitis and because of severe inflammation in my intestines, elevated white cell count and high fever I was going to have to be admitted to the hospital. Oh joy. At least the boss would know I wasn't faking when I called in sick. An hour later a nurse with a tiny wheel chair came to take me to my room.

Wow, this chapter was fun. What will happen when I get upstairs? Will I be a good patient or a blubbering nightmare? What other indignities will I suffer in the name of healing? You'll have to drop by tomorrow and find out. Later...Brian