Why I Can’t Be Trusted at Hospitals 🏥

This past weekend, Kevin and I went to the hospital for a visit. This is, generally speaking, never a super fun endeavor, but thankfully, everyone was recovering well, so it was just to say hello. Never one to miss an opportunity to make myself seem insane, I start off visits by telling everyone about the time I was, inexplicably, given fentanyl.

This was back when I still had 100% of my organs, and my gallbladder was just starting to give up at the ripe age of 35. Honestly, you’d think it would last longer. I went in complaining of stomach pain that wouldn’t go away and was somewhat concerned that my Mirena had wandered out of its assigned location. I’ve heard that happens, and it seems like a nightmare.

I told the nurse my pain was maybe a 6 and was probably off on a rant about how I needed her to check my Mirena and or appendix or telling her that this happened one time and was just gas (death by embarrassment) when she said they’d give me something for the pain or possibly to shut me up. As she pushed it into my iv, she told me it was fentanyl. It was too late to protest that I really didn’t need something that strong, and before I could even articulate my thoughts, it hit me. And damn if I didn’t feel freaking great. Never take that stuff.

I’m also a great time at funerals.

At this visit, I really needed to pee, so I went straight to the bathroom instead. Weirdly, the visitors’ bathroom was inside the little workout room, and of course, it was closed. There was a tiny sign directing me to the closest bathroom in a waiting room I’d never heard of somewhere on the same floor.

I’m wondering around aimlessly looking for anything resembling a waiting room when I walk through those double doors and enter an entirely empty, dark hallway. As the doors shut behind me, I could really take in the atmosphere. Which was scary as hell. There’s a window of light at the other end in a room that appears to be filled with chairs. The waiting room. This is the kind of nonsense you see in horror movies so that the protagonist can be attacked when they are all vulnerable and injured but think they are safe. Not something that actually happens, right? Hospitals are well lit and busy! Not this one, apparently.

Forced to walk through this hallway or break into a patient room, I choose the former. I would not survive 5 minutes in my favorite movies. Just call me zombie food. I was pretty sure that the lady from Exorcist 3 was following me with scissors the entire time. I’m lucky to be alive.

I did, barely make it back to the room and inform everyone about my harrowing adventure. But I didn’t recommend anyone ask for highly controlled substances that only drug seekers request, so perhaps that was a win.