Check me out: it was just a funny story; I was all ho-ho, off-hand, laughing it off... I had no fucking clue. It's been a year and a half now since that crosswalk, and I'm still undergoing scary, painful medical procedures and am now facing the possibility of another surgery, on the opposite hip of the one I just had surgery on last June. To find out just how "possible" that second surgery is, I had another arthrogram, on my left hip last Thursday. And can I say...
|shrine of germs|
1.) Me being needle-freaky (read: ready to cry upon the sight of that big long needle), and;
2.) The doctor injecting extra local anesthesia to keep me from feeling the needle too much and freaking out (according to the doctor, he really didn't want me to cry like I was threatening to, because he said it'd make him cry, and all kinds of awkwardness and retardation would ensue)
... I ended up crouched over, with a hip full of various liquids, hugging a public toilet and trying not to puke 5 minutes after trying to stand up.
When I came out of the bathroom -- because they just wouldn't stop knocking! Give a girl a chance to clean the smeared mascara from under her eyes after collapsing over a public toilet, why don't you!?? -- and reported that the nausea was fading, the nurse looks alarmed and says:
"Well, if you're feeling like fainting, I think we'd better get you a wheelchair!"
Who said anything about fainting?! If my husband had been there, he would have been rolling on the floor. My voice isn't overly loud like his, so the word I hear most is "What?" and "Huh?" John characterizes my quiet voice as "booping". I only get one "What?" from his direction before he looses patience and responds with:
Anyway, protestations aside, I ended up in a wheelchair. And then I ended up developing a cold that very same night...hmmm, I wonder where I picked up that bug. YUCK.