Anyone remember last year's birthday when I made the family re-do my birthday weekend because I felt unappreciated? hahaha. Joke is on me! (Whoops, can't find that post to link to it. Perhaps I neglected to mention it. You get the jist, we had a redo the weekend after my actual birthday) Anyway, that is what I did last year, never imagining that this year I could top last year's apathy with this year's husband's medical crisis!
How does this sound: spending your actual birthday in the emergency room with your rapidly going septic -dual soles of feet burned off -infected open wound- limping and puking husband! Woo Hoo! Par-tay! Quick! Someone dance with me!
They are so very nice in our new new town emergency room. I was bowled over by their niceness. You know that me myself being completely spastic and accident prone and having given birth to two (possibly three) accident prone kids, having a husband with infecto-feet, and having been physically responsible for my terminally ill ancestry, I have spent more than my fair share of precious time negotiating the ins and out of a variety of hospital emergency rooms, and I declare the new town ER to be 5 star.
The good news is I dragged kicking and screaming brought the husband to the ER while he was still in the early stages (or something) so this should be a piece of cake of a recovery compared to last spring. We totally know the routine here. I think he needs some new material. The foot thing is so over done already. Snooze. Boring.
I kid! It was scary as hell. I was crying with a mix of fright and relief once we we got to the ER and must have seemed like such a mess that the people in line in front of us waiting for the triage nurse told us we could cut them and go in first. Also, the guard slipped me my own box of hospital grade cardboard tissues. But probably everyone looking at the husband was thinking that if someone that tall ever fell on them they'd end up broken and they simply wanted him as far away as possible. Also, he was kind of green and an obvious puke risk.
No, but seriously, he had a fever of 103 and was in no way capable of kicking and screaming. He was like a lame little hurling trembling lamb.
I was supposed to drive back to stepford and have lunch with my babes yesterday but that didn't happen. Disappointing.
Four things that managed to make me smile yesterday DESPITE EVERYTHING ELSE FALLING TO PIECES in the order that they happened:
1. My babes sent me a Sponge Bob Edible Arrangements fruit basket thingie. I mean, an Edible Arrangement is exciting enough on it's own, but the Sponge Bob container makes it sublime.
2. When the husband hurled all over the ER waiting room floor the dude whose shoes were in the line of fire did this most hilarious jerky side stepping dance in an effort to flee the diameter of splatter. I'm laughing just remmbering the poor dude's facial expression of horror and dance combo. In retrospect though, I probably should have offered the guy a few bucks for a new pair of sneaks. Ooops.
3. Lil sis sent me a video of my niece singing happy birthday to me.
4. I saw a falling star come down right in front of me during a crazy out of the way expedition that the GPS took me on. I follwed the directions because I was too tired to figure them out on my own. Could it mean something? Think about it. Some people think nothing is random. Falling star!
The husband had some hospital assigned roommate issues. Tomorrow I'll make a post of his emails to me. Poor guy. Be sure to check back in.
Wow. Birthday + puking husband = Can life get any better?
YOU BETCHA!
May your year just IMPROVE from this point onwards! I think it's okay to rather wish you a happy birthday NOW. Hang in there!
Posted by: Pippa * Jeanne | February 29, 2012 at 02:34 AM