As most people are aware, Ellie is undeniably the star of
#DaddyWrite. Yeah, I may write but she
gives me the material. It's not like I
could come up with some of this stuff on my own, right? Unfortunately, I've missed posting over the
past couple of days for some very dramatic reasons. That being said, it's definitely a story that
merits telling. And no one really wants
to hear about Ellie playing with her feet all day right? Oh yeah, by the way, forgot to tell you,
Ellie plays with her feet now. You know,
it's pretty cute and all, but must...stay...focused...
I've been dealing with some pretty intense headaches over
the past couple of days. In fact, on
Wednesday night into Thursday morning, they actually kept me awake. The only place to find relief was in a tub filled
with warm water with a warm washrag draped across my face. Or as I like to call it, the "Sensory
Deprivator 4000". It probably
wasn't the safest way for me to sleep for an hour as Bethany was certain to
mention when she found me there the next morning but I had to do what I had to
do. In addition to the headache, I also
was suffering from some pretty bad nausea as well as achiness and wooziness. Let me be the one to tell you; trying to pull
yourself out of a bathtub with all of your might while clutching your puke
bucket is not an easy task.
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I feel your pain, cute panda baby...
|
As Bethany left for work (sadly she couldn't stay with me),
I was luckily able to put Ellie down for a nap in her swing. Basically eschewing all forms of sleep
training for the day, desperation instead took over. This child HAD to sleep, lest I surely die.
Ok, there might be some slight hyperbole there, but I really wanted her
to sleep. Luckily, I caught her in an easy mood where
not only was she willing to sleep, but was willing to do so for four hours
while I laid on the couch moaning in pain and clutching my head. Once Ellie woke up around noon, I quickly got
her bottle together and fed her before much crying could start. After that, I took her upstairs to her
changing table where things got hairy.
Every time, I glanced down to change her, intense wooziness would take
over. It was to the point where it took
me fifteen minutes to change one diaper.
Ok, one side undone. Sit
down. Another side done. Sit down.
Diaper off. Sit down. Clean the baby. Sit down.
Re-diaper baby. Sit down. Dress the baby. And job done.
At this point, I knew I wasn't capable of caring for Ellie
by myself and that I needed to head to the doctor. Doing the one thing I could do, I called my
mom to drive down from Savannah to take care of Ellie. I knew she'd do a great job and she was
definitely overjoyed to help. Once my
mom arrived, I enthusiastically handed Ellie over and went to grab a shower and
get dressed for the day. Although I was
always planning on sleeping, I instead decided to travel to our family doctor
to get a checkup figuring I'd get a diagnosis of migraines or sinus infection
or you know, hypochondria. His response, "You
could have a brain aneurysm or meningitis or Lyme disease." Really, that's what we're going with
doc? "You need to head to the ER
immediately to have tests run. If it's
an aneurysm, it could burst tonight and leave you dead in your sleep. You're young and you want to be around for
your wife and daughter." At this
point, I'm freaking out for good reason and call Bethany. Like a good wife, she leaves work early to
come home and go to the ER with me.
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| Can doctors catch hypochondria too? |
Once Bethany and I reach the ER, the staff take me back to a room and give me a stylish backless gown to change into. Luckily I got to keep on my cargo shorts so at least some pride remained. I'm still in some pain at this point but that would not remain for long. The doctor comes in to see me and says while we're waiting on the tests, he's going to give me something for the pain, giving me the option for orally or through an IV. I'm not going to have them stick me, except to draw blood, so I settle for the oral option, Vicodin. Now, I'd never had Vicodin before so had no clue how it would affect but it happened very quickly. Ten minutes later, I was smiling at everything around me. From the crackers in my hand to the can of Shasta Twist on the table beside. All were now funny to me for no apparent reason. I even became very complimentary to my wife.
Me: "You're really pretty."
Bethany: "Thank you. You're very happy right now,
aren't you?"Me: "Cause you're really pretty."
Bethany: "Is that you or the medicine talking?"
Me: "I think it's me cause you're really pretty."
That conversation went back and forth about six more times
before the CT Scan specialist came to collect me for my CT Scan. Bethany asked if she could come but was
denied because there was no waiting room but I should be back in fifteen
minutes or so. As they pushed me through
the hospital on the gurney, I remember strongly having to fight certain
urges. Like the urge to pretend I'm a
race car driver. Seriously, with every
fiber of my being, I was trying not to put my hands up on a pretend steering
wheel. So instead, I settled for working
the imaginary peddles with my feet. Gas,
brake for the corner, gas for the long straightaway. Once, we arrived in the CT Scan room, I
remember the technician asking why they were scanning. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the
proper wording so just began rambling before finally ending with, "They
gave me Vicodin." With that, the
technician began the CT Scan.
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How I felt racing around the corners on my gurney...
|
After being wheeled back to the room, I happily greeted
Bethany since I thought I'd been gone for hours. Shortly thereafter, the ER doctor came back
in and stated that I was being released as there was nothing wrong with any of
my scans. Also, adding that he was very
certain that I did not have meningitis and would not be subjecting me to a
spinal tap. Yay, although I was thinking
about the movie, "This is Spinal Tap" and became a little sad. During the thirty minutes it took to process
my release, Bethany and I began talking about the things that needed to be done
at home and centered in on laundry. I
became very convinced of my need to do the laundry that night and thought she
was telling me I didn't know how. Then,
I proceeded to give her a six minute explanation of how to use the washer and
dryer in very detailed terms. Once the
doctor finally returned (and gave me a prescription for Vicodin), Bethany and I
left the hospital and headed for home.
Unfortunately, Bethany doesn't think that I should really
get the prescription filled. Something about
the nurse realizing how I was essentially stoned on it and I probably shouldn't
take care of a baby with it in my system.
What? Poppycock I say. #DaddyWrite
P.S. I'm fine
now.
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