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Name::New York City's Watchdog
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Thursday, June 15, 2006Oh You Didn't Know...
... yeah, I just got out of the hospital. The surprise to end all surprises is that my crappy feeling lately wasn't so much a mental issue but a real physical one. Me, being the good EMT I am, ignored it all and of course I ended up in the hospital delirious with fever and a swollen limb.
So let's start at the beginning... well at least last Friday. I went home Friday night, overdosed on some Ny-Quil and ended up sleeping until 1:00ish on Saturday. I blew The Steff off for an AC Moore run because I was still beat, did some chatting online instead, and took a shower before heading to MSG for Fight Night. When I got out of the shower I had some serious cramps in my left leg and I was feeling all lightheaded and stuff. I shrugged it off to the cold I was coming down with and possibly dehydration. Grabbed a gatorade and a meatball sandwhich and off I went. The meatball sandwhich stayed in my stomach a grand total of 5 minutes before ending up on the passenger seat of the truck. Bad meat. I kept going.
Nevermind the fact that when I got to the base I was exhausted and weak. OPS didn't notice but my wolves in dispatch did... but I kept going. It took me an hour and a half to get to MSG. I was over an hour late, and when I got there it was physically impossible for me to get out of the ambulance. Eventually I hobbled down to the medical office... did 4 hours out of my scheduled 8... and then went home to sleep again.
Sunday my temp was up and down... 101.3... 102.1... 100.7... 1003.9. Yep... I peaked at 103.9, and found myself in an ice tub of cold water to bring the temp down. Of course, I refused to go to the hospital. I had already cancelled out of the ECW PPV at the Manhattan Center so what was the point. It was just a stomach flu right? A couple more gallons of Gatorade and I would be okay like always.
Finally Monday I went to my doctor's office. Monday morning when I tried to get up, I could barely walk. Lifting my left pant leg I caught sight of the problem. Cellulitus. F. U. C. K.
I really didn't need to go to the doctor's office to get told to go to the hospital... but I did it anyway because I was thinking that since Friday there may have been a miracle cure discovered I didn't know about and the doctor I haven't seen in 7 years might have been the one to discover it. Nope. So off to the hospital I went. I had a 102.5 temp upon admission... doplar was good... IV anti-biotics running... percoset was onboard... and I was done.
I'm not going to bore you with the details of my hospital stay, with the mystery meat, the hot Ubekistan Nurse Aide who gave me a sponge bath, the paralysing rounds of IV anti-b's, the obnoxious troll who lied about flippin' my roomy slick Willy, or my other roomy Carl "Cobblestones" O'Hoolihan and his globe trotting family. What I will tell you is I had/have is officially called LYMPHEDEMA CELLULITIS LYMPHANGITIS... and yes... I will live.
I've actually only been home for about 5 hours... and while I see there are 71 e-mails and 237 posts in bloglines to read alone... well... I'll get to it when I can. I just figured I'd leave a quick note to let everyone know that yes I am alive... and no I did not forget about you.
Thanks... and have a nice day.