Let’s stray a little from the routine that has become Our Father’s Mustache, shall we? I think that instead of my usual back and forth, we’ll go for more of a “story” format.
Once upon a time, on a day normally reserved for fun and games (oh, Saturday, how I love thee), I thought I was going to die. “Why was that?” you ask. Well, I shall tell you.
The reason I thought I was going to die was because right after I woke up, I began coughing. Not normally an issue for me, all you have to do to cough is take some air in, then expel the air with a greater amount of force than you would normally use to exhale. The issue this time was that plenty of air was being exhaled while no air was going in. At all. My first thought was, “Um, no, I’m not going to die of something stupid like choking to death on my own phlegm or because of an asthma attack,” followed quickly by the thought, “holy mother, I might choke to death if I don’t get some help here.”
So I ran to my bathroom making a really horrible wheezing/dying rabbit sound (because remember, no air was going into my lungs at this point. I couldn’t even call for help), and THANK GOD, my dad heard me actively suffocating and came to my rescue. I don’t know how he did it, but he bear-hugged me to the point that I was able to start breathing again.
I don’t remember much else from that day except for getting my new iphone (clearly of high importance), and vomiting every 3 hours. Oh goody.
About 9PM that night (we’re still on Saturday here), I decided that since I couldn’t keep fluids down and had the worst headache of my life, and still couldn’t really breathe, I should probably go to the hospital. Oh goody.
I should make it very clear that I HATE hospitals, and avoid them at all costs. The fact that I actually wanted to be in one means that I felt pretty close to death.
Anyway, I got there, threw-up again, and then laid there on a gurney until the nurse took pity on me. After a rough start with my I.V. (oh, yes, please, could you dig around in my arm a little bit more with that needle? It makes me feel so alive!), things got a little better. All in all, I had two bags of saline, a shot of something that made me feel pretty happy, and some anti-nausea stuff. Oh, and I got to experience the great ‘quake while in the ER. Some pretty exciting stuff, I’ll tell you what! (It was kind of disturbing to hear what the nurses had to say about the quake…”IT’S THE END O’ DAYS, I TELL YA!”).
So, that’s the story in a nutshell. I still feel pretty horrible and won’t be writing much for a few days, but I thought I should at least give a decent reason for my absence.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure that the reason I got so sick, so fast is because I’ve been on a liquid diet for the last few months. I haven’t been able to eat normally and feel as though any progress I made is probably in the trash. If you’re the praying kind, I’d appreciate your prayers. If you’re not, well, I’ll take positive vibes as well.
Our Father's Mustache 