TheSanityAnnex
10-06-2006, 03:21 PM
Just got out of the hospital today and I thought I'd share what I wrote last night.
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2 AM/Day 6
I'm sitting here writing this on the only paper in my room, a portable DVD instruction manual. Who needs a fucking manual for this shit? Simply turn it on, put the disc in and press play. Sorry, I am easily sidetracked at this time and I blame it on the drugs. Be prepared to read a lot of sidetracked ramblings if you continue.
You may ask, why is this the only paper you have available? Well, I happen to be sitting in a hospital bed right now on my last night of a six day vacation. I really don't know why I'm writing this, it's either boredom, excitement that I'm leaving, the need to post, or the fucking buzzing of my IV maching that is keeping me up at this time. Or it could be the combination of Morphine/Delodded(sp?)Vomiting Meds. Who knows, but I'm writing this.
Now some of you may not care, so I suggest you stop reading at this point, it could get rather boring, but for those who do, continue on.
I'm sharing this with you because I learned some important shit in this short amount of time here at the hospital, but I'll get to that later. First, let me tell you how I got here. And before I say anymore...I bet Fillmoe thought I'd stopped posting because I lost a sig bet to him when the Chargers lost to the Ravens after the worst called second half in Martyball history. I didn't forget Fillmoe, and I'll attach the damn thing the moment I sign on. To put icing on your victory get this...I got to watch the fucking second half catastrophe Sunday morning in the ICU. Talk about fun times, I got to watch my heart rate on the monitor go up with every fucking run Marty called.
Oh shit, I've gotten this far and still haven't told you all why I'm even in the hospital. I told you I'd be I'd be rambling. Backtracking a little, I'll tell you what led up to me being in the hospital.
Here's the deal. I've got Fri/Sat/Sun off this week so I decide to have some fun partying and what not. 25 years old, why the fuck not. I go watch Jackass2 with some buddies at noon and sneak in a couple Steel Reserve 24oz'rs. The movie was hilarious and I got a little buzz. Off to the Sports Bar to watch the Padres. Order my 5 dollar pitcher and kick back ready to enjoy the fight for the playoff spots. Son of a bitch, the game isn't being broadcast locally. Sip on my pitcher for the next three hours while checking the score on my phone. Leave the bar and ride my bike home. Hours and hours pass and I decide to get a little poker game going with some buddies. We play till 3 AM and I rape all of them for every single penny they had. MannyisGod would have been proud. I was getting cards all night and played every hand perfectly. They left depleted and I was smiling as I hit the sack.
I wake up with an ever so slight headache but think nothing of it because I really didn't drink much at all last night. A couple beers in the afternoon, and a couple at night. (2 Steel Reserves and a six pack over the span of 10 hours, I've drank plenty, plenty more during the span of a single football game) Anyways, I hop in the shower and headache is gone. Good to go and ready to have some fun on Saturday, or so I thought.
At around noon I get an odd feeling in my stomach and suddenly have to run to the bathroom to expel some vomit. I laugh to myself, what is going on here, am I really experiencing a hangover? Oh well, I think to myself, done this before, one puke and I'll be fine. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Let explain something first before I continue...I have a certain condition that the doctors haven't figured out yet and I have been hospitalized twice for it before from vomiting caused by flu. I will start vomiting and it won't stop. My stomach cramps up and I can't hold anything down. I become extremely dehydrated and have to go to the ER to recieve medication for vomiting and an IV for some hydration. The two times before, I was released that night and felt fine.
To get back to what I was saying, I thought I'd puke once and it would be over. Nope, the shit was going down again and it wasn't going to be fun. I tried drinking tons of water but it would come back up in ten minutes. Not good. After five hours of puking it was time to head to the ER.
The were able to subside the vomiting and stomach pains quite quickly and I was feeling pretty damn good. Drugs are powerful. I'm ready to walk out of the place when the tell me they want to run some quick x-rays. I agree and find out some interesting stuff here. They tell me I've got some air showing up inside my stomach and outside my throat. Air? What the fuck? They have me swallow some fluid that will show up in the next x-ray and they find out I've ripped a hole in my esophogus. I had wretched so fucking hard that I tore a hole in my esophogus. Didn't think that was possible and didn't think it was that big of a deal. Again, couldn't have been more wrong.
They explain to me that bacteria has entered through this hole and they'll probably have to open up my chest to repair the hole. Fuck. Its now Saturday night and I've got a Charger game to watch tomorrow. They tell me I'll be spending the night in ICU and I ask if there are TV's. They answer yes. All is not lost, I can watch the game. (Wish I hadn't though, I almost had a freaking heart attack) I kick it in ICU for two days and with some stroke of luck, my hole has healed itself and surgery is not necessary. Lucky for me, they tell me exactly how serious the surgery would have been after I didn't need it. Assholes.
There was a point to all of this and I seem to have gotten way off of it. Let me get to it and try and wrap this up. (Conqueso is probably the only one who's read this far anyways) Here is my point, or points.
I never really thought I took life for granted, and I found out I sure as fuck did. Something as simple as a hangover almost killed me, and from what the doctors say, I'm extremely lucky to have come out of this as quickly and safely as I did. Most people have the surgery and don't eat solid foods for a month or the bacterial infection kills them. I got out in a week and had my first solid meal after only five days. (I got to eat an actual ice cube after three days and it was the best damn ice cube I've ever eaten. You should have seen my face when I got my first glass of water. Severe dehydration is a bitch)
You'd think someone who works with developmentally disabled/autistic kids all day long would think more of life after seeing what these kids go through each and every day. I did to an extent, but obviously not enough. I was for sure taking life for granted, and that is hard to admit. It really sucks that it takes something like this happening to me to open my eyes, especially after a close friend of mine was in ICU a week ago for a head injury and another friend of mine died of an overdose years ago.
I was the guy with the "I don't give a fuck it won't happen to me attitude". Well, a couple nasty ass Steel Reserves and a few Coors Lights got the best of me. I now have to change my ways and really don't have a choice. I learned some stuff while I was here as well.
I learned who my true friends were. I learned that some Doctors are assholes, and some are saints. I learned that most RN's are wonderful at their jobs, and few CNA's are good at their own. I learned how important my family meant to me, and how much I meant to them. I learned to never ever take my wonderful relationship with my girlfriend for granted. I learned to never take sex for granted either, a week is a long time. I learned to take better care of my body. I learned that life is a party, but I don't have to party every damn day. Shit, I've been partying for the last 10 years straight and had some good times, and even though the doctors said that alcohol wasn't the root of my stomach problem, it made me realize that I need to cut back and slow down. That is a tough chore when you are a fan of the Sacramento Kings, the San Diego Padres, and the San Diego Chargers. I've got a ton of life left and I'd like to see it.
Now I'm not writing this to get any sympathy from any of you, and to prove this I'm posting it in the troll forum. Go ahead trolls, tear me a new asshole. For a week, I've had no solid food, I've been hooked up to an IV machine and heart monitor, I haven't stepped outside, I haven't left my room, I've had four TV channels to watch, I've been pumped full of numerous antibiotics and painkillers, and have been woken up every hour on the hour to have my vitals checked. I think I can take what ever you have to dish out, and I'm looking forward to it.
The real reason I'm writing this (besides the fact that I'm super high and strungout off the Delodded and Morphine and other painkillers) is that I'm hoping just one person reads this and realizes that they too have been taking life for granted. If just one person reads this and decides they need to make a change, this whole post was worth it. End of rant.
==============================================
2 AM/Day 6
I'm sitting here writing this on the only paper in my room, a portable DVD instruction manual. Who needs a fucking manual for this shit? Simply turn it on, put the disc in and press play. Sorry, I am easily sidetracked at this time and I blame it on the drugs. Be prepared to read a lot of sidetracked ramblings if you continue.
You may ask, why is this the only paper you have available? Well, I happen to be sitting in a hospital bed right now on my last night of a six day vacation. I really don't know why I'm writing this, it's either boredom, excitement that I'm leaving, the need to post, or the fucking buzzing of my IV maching that is keeping me up at this time. Or it could be the combination of Morphine/Delodded(sp?)Vomiting Meds. Who knows, but I'm writing this.
Now some of you may not care, so I suggest you stop reading at this point, it could get rather boring, but for those who do, continue on.
I'm sharing this with you because I learned some important shit in this short amount of time here at the hospital, but I'll get to that later. First, let me tell you how I got here. And before I say anymore...I bet Fillmoe thought I'd stopped posting because I lost a sig bet to him when the Chargers lost to the Ravens after the worst called second half in Martyball history. I didn't forget Fillmoe, and I'll attach the damn thing the moment I sign on. To put icing on your victory get this...I got to watch the fucking second half catastrophe Sunday morning in the ICU. Talk about fun times, I got to watch my heart rate on the monitor go up with every fucking run Marty called.
Oh shit, I've gotten this far and still haven't told you all why I'm even in the hospital. I told you I'd be I'd be rambling. Backtracking a little, I'll tell you what led up to me being in the hospital.
Here's the deal. I've got Fri/Sat/Sun off this week so I decide to have some fun partying and what not. 25 years old, why the fuck not. I go watch Jackass2 with some buddies at noon and sneak in a couple Steel Reserve 24oz'rs. The movie was hilarious and I got a little buzz. Off to the Sports Bar to watch the Padres. Order my 5 dollar pitcher and kick back ready to enjoy the fight for the playoff spots. Son of a bitch, the game isn't being broadcast locally. Sip on my pitcher for the next three hours while checking the score on my phone. Leave the bar and ride my bike home. Hours and hours pass and I decide to get a little poker game going with some buddies. We play till 3 AM and I rape all of them for every single penny they had. MannyisGod would have been proud. I was getting cards all night and played every hand perfectly. They left depleted and I was smiling as I hit the sack.
I wake up with an ever so slight headache but think nothing of it because I really didn't drink much at all last night. A couple beers in the afternoon, and a couple at night. (2 Steel Reserves and a six pack over the span of 10 hours, I've drank plenty, plenty more during the span of a single football game) Anyways, I hop in the shower and headache is gone. Good to go and ready to have some fun on Saturday, or so I thought.
At around noon I get an odd feeling in my stomach and suddenly have to run to the bathroom to expel some vomit. I laugh to myself, what is going on here, am I really experiencing a hangover? Oh well, I think to myself, done this before, one puke and I'll be fine. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Let explain something first before I continue...I have a certain condition that the doctors haven't figured out yet and I have been hospitalized twice for it before from vomiting caused by flu. I will start vomiting and it won't stop. My stomach cramps up and I can't hold anything down. I become extremely dehydrated and have to go to the ER to recieve medication for vomiting and an IV for some hydration. The two times before, I was released that night and felt fine.
To get back to what I was saying, I thought I'd puke once and it would be over. Nope, the shit was going down again and it wasn't going to be fun. I tried drinking tons of water but it would come back up in ten minutes. Not good. After five hours of puking it was time to head to the ER.
The were able to subside the vomiting and stomach pains quite quickly and I was feeling pretty damn good. Drugs are powerful. I'm ready to walk out of the place when the tell me they want to run some quick x-rays. I agree and find out some interesting stuff here. They tell me I've got some air showing up inside my stomach and outside my throat. Air? What the fuck? They have me swallow some fluid that will show up in the next x-ray and they find out I've ripped a hole in my esophogus. I had wretched so fucking hard that I tore a hole in my esophogus. Didn't think that was possible and didn't think it was that big of a deal. Again, couldn't have been more wrong.
They explain to me that bacteria has entered through this hole and they'll probably have to open up my chest to repair the hole. Fuck. Its now Saturday night and I've got a Charger game to watch tomorrow. They tell me I'll be spending the night in ICU and I ask if there are TV's. They answer yes. All is not lost, I can watch the game. (Wish I hadn't though, I almost had a freaking heart attack) I kick it in ICU for two days and with some stroke of luck, my hole has healed itself and surgery is not necessary. Lucky for me, they tell me exactly how serious the surgery would have been after I didn't need it. Assholes.
There was a point to all of this and I seem to have gotten way off of it. Let me get to it and try and wrap this up. (Conqueso is probably the only one who's read this far anyways) Here is my point, or points.
I never really thought I took life for granted, and I found out I sure as fuck did. Something as simple as a hangover almost killed me, and from what the doctors say, I'm extremely lucky to have come out of this as quickly and safely as I did. Most people have the surgery and don't eat solid foods for a month or the bacterial infection kills them. I got out in a week and had my first solid meal after only five days. (I got to eat an actual ice cube after three days and it was the best damn ice cube I've ever eaten. You should have seen my face when I got my first glass of water. Severe dehydration is a bitch)
You'd think someone who works with developmentally disabled/autistic kids all day long would think more of life after seeing what these kids go through each and every day. I did to an extent, but obviously not enough. I was for sure taking life for granted, and that is hard to admit. It really sucks that it takes something like this happening to me to open my eyes, especially after a close friend of mine was in ICU a week ago for a head injury and another friend of mine died of an overdose years ago.
I was the guy with the "I don't give a fuck it won't happen to me attitude". Well, a couple nasty ass Steel Reserves and a few Coors Lights got the best of me. I now have to change my ways and really don't have a choice. I learned some stuff while I was here as well.
I learned who my true friends were. I learned that some Doctors are assholes, and some are saints. I learned that most RN's are wonderful at their jobs, and few CNA's are good at their own. I learned how important my family meant to me, and how much I meant to them. I learned to never ever take my wonderful relationship with my girlfriend for granted. I learned to never take sex for granted either, a week is a long time. I learned to take better care of my body. I learned that life is a party, but I don't have to party every damn day. Shit, I've been partying for the last 10 years straight and had some good times, and even though the doctors said that alcohol wasn't the root of my stomach problem, it made me realize that I need to cut back and slow down. That is a tough chore when you are a fan of the Sacramento Kings, the San Diego Padres, and the San Diego Chargers. I've got a ton of life left and I'd like to see it.
Now I'm not writing this to get any sympathy from any of you, and to prove this I'm posting it in the troll forum. Go ahead trolls, tear me a new asshole. For a week, I've had no solid food, I've been hooked up to an IV machine and heart monitor, I haven't stepped outside, I haven't left my room, I've had four TV channels to watch, I've been pumped full of numerous antibiotics and painkillers, and have been woken up every hour on the hour to have my vitals checked. I think I can take what ever you have to dish out, and I'm looking forward to it.
The real reason I'm writing this (besides the fact that I'm super high and strungout off the Delodded and Morphine and other painkillers) is that I'm hoping just one person reads this and realizes that they too have been taking life for granted. If just one person reads this and decides they need to make a change, this whole post was worth it. End of rant.