Not just one but two ...

So in answer to the previous post's question, it involved an IV, two actually.  Dr. P took one look at my leg and said "guess where you're going?"  I attempted to argue, but when confronted with "ok, I can give you one more shot and Sunday you'll be in the emergency room and I will not be around" I decided to just submit.

I kind of freaked.  Kind of.  Not completely.  I let a couple people know what was up, but none of them responded as they apparently have lives that don't revolve around me.  Imagine that.

Michael called back and for all practical purposes he was ok.  At least he sounded calm.  He kept it in until later in the day.  He drove me to the hospital, went through the admitting process with me, and hung around until I could see he was getting to be a flight risk and sent him home.

Long story short, I learned some good things and bad things about myself.  Bad - I must have ptsd because when they put me in a wheelchair I had a slight mental breakdown.  Fortunately a well timed message from my friend Jen calmed me.  She reminded me that it wasn't because I couldn't walk.  Big duh, I know, but in that moment it was like everything I'd worked so hard for was stripped away.  I didn't claim it was logical, it was just the raw emotion.

Good things - even with room service I ordered healthy options, I dealt better with the whole situation, and I was given a really strong awakening to why my efforts to become healthier are so important.  I missed being able to move and exercise.  I hated being told I couldn't go to aqua zumba.

I don't like hospitals.  They weren't mean or anything, I just prefer the comforts of home.

When I left ... didn't mind being a wheelchair.  I remembered it was just a means of transportation and a temporary one.  Plus he humored me when I kept saying "faster, faster, faster!"

I also learned how wonderful of a support system I have.  I have the best people in my life.  Blessed!