My Dear "Kindred Spirit,"

My Dear “Kindred Spirit,”

I’ve been trying for the past few weeks to make this post and my last post one and the same. I finally gave up. I couldn’t figure out how to cram everything I wanted to say into one post without it just being weird (like, really weird. Even weirder than usual). So two separate posts it is.

I recently spent a few days in the hospital.

I seem to have adventures anywhere I go, and the hospital was no exception to this rule! In fact, due to the presence and influence of the Ant, uncle and cousin, it may be safe to say that I had more adventures than usual at the hospital.

But first things first. Does anyone else here Wizard of Oz the way I do??!

(Sorry, I probably should have prefaced that with: “Oooh! Shiny object!!”)

I’m not a huge Wizard of Oz fan, actually, but it is a very quotable musical. And a few years ago I was the musical director for a production of it, which pretty much means I learned all the songs inside out, upside down and backward. Like, seriously. I can sing you pretty much any song you want to hear from that musical.

This deep rooted knowledge of the Wizard of Oz music explains why, when about 5 or 6 hours into my ER visit the doctor came and told us (the Ant, the cousin, and myself) that I was being admitted and they were starting me on IV antibiotics and steroids, I immediately went all Wizard of Oz on the Ant:

“Anti-biotics and steroids… oh my! Anti-biotics and steroids… oh my! Anti-biotics and…”

Yeah. She was not impressed. I can only assume it’s because she doesn’t Wizard the way I do.

Moving on.

Journal entry excerpt, night one at the hospital:

“I don’t always use drunk Otis voice when talking to myself, but when I do it’s 10 PM and I can’t get to sleep in the hospital. I also don’t always dream of gorging myself on Chinese food, but when I do it’s 10 PM and I’m unable to sleep in the hospital bed and I’m also on a clear liquid diet. #mymindjustworkslikethatdammit! #IcantsleepandjudgingbythelooksofthesepagesIcantwriteeither. #onehandedjournalingcuztheIVisntexactlycomfortable.”

Yeah. My journaling habits include hashtags. #youknowyourejealousofmyawesomeness. 😛

I finally dozed off only to be woken up at 3 AM. They needed to draw blood. At 3 AM.

Journal entry excerpt from the next morning:

“Does anyone have good veins at 3 AM? I’m just curious… They always have a hard time drawing blood and I can’t help but wonder if it’s CUZ THEY WAKE ME UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO DO IT!!! Had to poke me 3 times last night before they got anything. Inner elbow, hand, and INNER WRIST. Yeah. OUCH. That one was painful. At 3:45 AM, that one was definitely painful… Gah. I so want to whine about this on Facebook and get some virtual sympathy.”

I did whine about it on Facebook: “3 AM Vampires. #somuchfun #not,” and I got my virtual sympathy. Facebook is good at things like that.

The rest of that day brought flowers from the parents (delivered by the Ant), my handsome green sidekick (also delivered by the Ant, originally a gift from my sister several months ago), and a lot of phone calls home.

Night two at the hospital:

3 AM; Me: *Wakes up, rushes to bathroom* (no easy feat when you’re tied to that big IV cart, let me tell you…). No sooner gets into bathroom, when-

Nurse: *knocks on door* “Everything ok in there? I just need to draw some blood when you’re done…”

Me: (mentally) “Hah! Yeah, you’re gonna have to come up with a better incentive than that to get me out of this bathroom!”

Journal entry excerpt from next day:

“Dear God – Can I go home so when I’m dying of pain on the toilet it can at least be in peace and quiet, uninterrupted by vampires impatiently waiting for me to finish so they can suck some more blood out of my body in some more painful ways? Thanks so much. … Me.”

That day also brought out the Ant and uncle in full force. They arrived at the hospital late morning, laden with blanket-fort building supplies and a coloring book. You should have seen the look on the nurses faces when they walked in on blanket-fort construction! The nurses were quickly recruited to help with the fort construction, and then also for the subsequent picture-coloring.

Ok, so hospitals bring out the 5 year old in me. In fact, methinks they bring out the 5 year old in us all…

By the next day I was really itching to get out of there, if only to escape the middle-of-the-night blood draws.

Besides, they had “upgraded” me to eating solid food and the whole hospital food thing was starting to irk me… You can’t put a real food foodie in the hospital and expect her to not flip out at least a little bit over all the chemical – laden, “low fat/no fat” “low cholesterol” garbage that they feed everyone!

They didn’t let me go home that day.

But I was feeling better enough that I threw myself a bit of a party that evening anyway. I put my two latest song obsessions on repeat: Gungor’s “Beautiful Things” and Colton Dixon’s “You Are.” And then me, Elmo, and that IV cart… well, I don’t want to say we danced around that hospital room, cuz I don’t exactly dance – especially not when I’ve been sitting in a hospital bed for over 3 days and am still tied by a needle in my hand to a bulky IV cart, but…

Those are two good songs! And the door was shut and the window blind was down…

I admit to nothing!

The next day, though… ahhh… the next day was my favorite!

The next day they let me go!!

Love, N.

P.S. One last journal entry excerpt:

“I don’t always climb the stairs like drunk Otis, but when I do it’s cuz I just got out of the hospital…”

You do know who drunk Otis is, right? From The Andy Griffith Show? Ok, good, just makin’ sure…