Monday, August 29, 2005

On hospitalizations

Most people at my age are experts in something in their careers, a hobby that has become a passion, or at the very least have a blow job/cunnilingus trick that they claim they are the expert. No, at the age of 23, going on 24, I am an expert in hospitalizations/anything that has to do with medicine without having a medical degree, this past hospitalization being my second major one. Throw in 2 major hospitalizations within the last 7 years along with my hypochondriac behavior, and I act like a med school drop out. The sad thing is, I actually self-diagnosed myself for the quack at First-Med. Hence, I have been toying with the idea of med school.

As I wrote in my previous post, I had viral meningitis. Before I get to the wacky hospitalization stories complete with offending a Christian fundamentalist, hitting on doctors, wheel chair races, etc., I never thought it would be possible for me to become more neurotic, but this illness did it. First of all, there is nothing more scary than to be quarantined in a hospital room, hospital staff wearing masks around you, and to have the answer to the question of “Dr. do you know where I could have gotten this?” be answered with a “we really don’t know.”

Wait a fucking min.
I am paying (well Blue Cross) is paying about $1000 a day for me to stay at hotel LIJ (I had a private room since I was “contagious”), you went to 4 years of med school, years of residency, and years of experience in infectious disease and you do not know how I caught the most horrible illness that I have ever encountered that I would not ever wish on my worst enemy?!!

I am freaked out. So freaked out…

As soon as I got home, I disinfected the shit out of my apt (and I am the messiest person alive!), complete with Lysol-ing the leather couch that I slept on and washing my pillows in hot hot water. This has impacted my office life as well. Gone are the days where I used to stir my coffee with my pens, reuse the same old water bottle for water for an entire week without washing it out, bite my nails after walking off the subway…I am officially Woody Allen neurotic. Complete with giving up my lifeblood of sushi at the local supermarket because I do not trust raw fish sitting out.

But in happier news, I lost weight. I have cheekbones and a jaw line and may I add, maybe meningitis wasn’t so bad because it did give me a jump start/instill a fear in eating out/anything that I may not have control over how sanitary its conditions may be. I am going to be a size 4 in no time! I’m also going back to my crazy dark reddish purple hair color and am finally putting up a profile on because I want to meet someone. And my new found germa-phobeness will not allow me 1 night stands (plus my taking a stats class at Hunter this semester isn’t helping the situation either).

Observations in the hospital:
Do not assume everyone gets your NY Jewish single woman humor, especially when it involves enlisting the help of overworked nurses who should be responding to code blues as opposed to helping you find a date. I turned around to one of the nurses and asked her if she could help me find a “nice boy” on the floor or a hott Dr. She comes in and brings in this not so good looking nurse with a ‘big heart’. Big hearts aren’t going to get me off nor are they going to finance my shopping/international travel/champagne addictions. She tells me that I shouldn’t be desperate (HAHA!) and that I should wait because God will send someone to me. I didn’t tell her all about the homos who God sends to me, which I am still trying to figure out the reasoning behind that. Turns out that she is a Christian fundamentalist who doesn’t believe in dating (ok). As soon as I hear the words, “I am a Christian.” I proceed with caution because I respect everyone and know that my out look on life is not compatible with people who are more conservative. My mother is in the room and Will and Grace begins. My mother, who is one of the most naiive people, is obsessed with my new roommate John John because “You guys are Will and Grace!” Yes mom, please do not remind me that I am a neurotic Jewish woman whose fixation with gay men has ruined all of her dating prospects. So she yells out, to the nurse, how I live with a gay man. The Christian nurse says, “That is so sad how those people choose to live.” I bite my tongue. My mother, who is so obsessed that my life is a fucked up sitcom, tells the nurse that she doesn’t understand and that we are so cute together because I live with a gay man!! Go mom, you earned your diversity points.

You know you have weird taste in men when your mom tells you that your crush is ugly (Zack Braff) and that I am a lost cause in bringing home an attractive man.

Infectious disease when they thought I had bacterial did not find the humor that I took the LIRR home. You have to admire my tenacity, here it is it feels like I am dying, christening toilets with my vomit, and I make it home the entire ½ hour journey to LI. Mom and Dad are not at the train station when my train gets in, instead I find out that my father is asking my mother “How far do we need to live so that the kids do not come home sick.” Yea dad, and they admitted me into the hospital the following days.

I love doctors not because of their earning potential or how cute they were, but because of the questions that they have to ask, especially when they say that “it is secret with them”:

Dr.: So, Do you do smoke?
Me: I just recently quit, but I only smoke when I drink
Dr.: How often do you drink?
Me: Depending, sometimes Wed-Sun, other times one day a week. It really depends.
Dr: Well on average about how much do you drink and what do you drink?
Me: About 5-6 drinks in a night
Dr: [interrupting] Beers, right?
Me: No, cocktails, martinis, bottles of champagne. I am a champagne girl! (As I say this with a huge smile on my face)
Dr.: Have you ever use drugs? About how often?
Me: I rarely, if ever, use drugs but I’ll make exceptions on special occasions
Dr: [Bewildered look on his face] So, have you been anywhere wooded?
Me: Well, I went out to the Hamptons a few weeks ago, before that London and before that MD, and fourth of July weekend I was in MA.
Dr: What did you do when you were at those places (I guess expecting a serious contemplation of whether I was in heavily wooded areas, etc.)
Me: I sat in the woods and drank with friends
Dr.: Have you ever tried to hurt yourself?
Me: Well between the drinking, the drugs, and the trip to the Hamptons, I don’t think I’ve had much time to think about hurting myself.
Dr: [Laughing] Well you know I have to ask

Yes, I party hard in order to try to forget about the pain that is my life.

Overall, I am doing much much better. Back at work and had my Stats class at Hunter this past evening. Drs. Are so cute, especially when they tell a neurotic academic perfectionist name dropper such as myself to “take it easy’.

Friends, Thanks for the well wishes.
Readers who I do not know, FUCK YOU. You could have left a comment asking how I was doing. Make it up to me by forwarding the link to your friends. Come on, you know I am funny.


At 7:42 PM, Blogger sdm said...

I actually was concerned, but you don't allow anonymous comments. I created my "blogger" ID just for you (not really but it sounds good).

I'm glad you are feeling better.


At 9:26 PM, Blogger Del-V said...

I am glad you are OK. I would have written sooner but I wanted to see if you would pull thru.

You have some funny stories. Keep it up!


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