One of the worst things that can happen to a blogger happened to me recently. I lost my camera. I’ve looked all over for the thing, and I just can’t find it. It’s been driving me crazy! I even looked in the “guy” areas like the pantry and inside the refrigerator. No luck at all. I remember wanting to use it on my birthday, but decided against it and haven’t seen it since. The only thing I can think of is that I took it to work for some pictures to be used in a how to book and I left it around a house or something. I don’t know. What I do know is now that I can’t find it, I have this irrational need to have it just in case. In all honesty I could go on without it for some time and just use pictures from the internet for my blog, but it feels like a cheat. I want to give you what I see without it coming from a third source. Even though I could find better pictures on the internet, the picture I take puts you right next to me and, in my mind, helps me communicate exactly what I am describing at that moment. I’d run out and buy one today, but I know the moment I do, I’ll find the missing one.
If that wasn’t enough a deterrent to blogging, I ended up staying overnight in the hospital last week. I had a piercing headache and a minor tightening of my chest and before you can say “Onomonopia” the doctor has me wheeled over to the hospital for observation. It almost didn’t happen. See, my doctor knows I hate needles. I loathe them. I detest them. I curse their very existence! (Can you guess I don’t have any body piercings or tattoos?) So in his wisdom, he decided not to tell me that they would be testing my blood every eight hours plus one at the beginning. It took me a good ten minute of thinking it over before relenting to the observation.
On the one side, I was told that my symptoms were probably from too much caffeine in my system or just too much heat. (It was brutally hot that day and an early rain was literally steaming off the road, making it hard for the body to cool itself.) This observation felt unnecessary to me under these circumstances.
On the other side, I’ve had too many family members suffer from pulmonary problems. One’s still in recovery. Others weren’t as lucky. I knew my wife would be on me nonstop if I didn’t agree. So I did.
It took a while to find me a bed. For some reason the entire men’s wing was full to capacity. The nurses said they hadn’t seen anything like it. While waiting I was introduced to my new little friend, The Butterfly needle. This thing is tiny! I’m talking about the thickness of a hair. I’ve had splinters bigger than this thing! It’s wonderful. To help you understand, when it comes to needles, it’s not the pricking or poking that’s the problem; it’s the buildup in my mind. I obsess over and over about the upcoming bloodletting that I don’t turn that molehill into a mountain, I turn that bugger into K2!
“Ain’t no way you’re sticking that Pike into my arm!”
The butterfly takes all that away. It is so small and thin that even when my senses are heightened to feel everything in a magnified way, its feels small. If you have any, and I mean ANY reservations when it comes to needles and blood tests, ask for the butterfly needle. It’s so much better.
I eventually got a room with a guy that was lucky enough to have the same observation orders. Unfortunately for the both of us, his schedule was four hours ahead of mine. That meant every four hours we were both interrupted by a nurse having to draw blood from either him or me. It made for a wonderful night of non-rest. Our favorite moment came when a nurse came in at 4A.M. to ask us if we had gone to the bathroom. (We were both ambulatory and could walk to the bathroom if we needed it. Why can’t they put that on the door?)
Luckily for me, I have a wife that truly cares and brought me my lap top. Never again will I underestimate the power of Wi-Fi. Instead of having to endure droning episodes of JWOW and Snooki or the mindless blabber of C-Span, I could surf the web. I even listened to a podcast while in bed. What I didn’t do was type. For some reason lying in a hospital bed while getting poked and prodded takes the initiative out of you. At least it did for me. Passively reading was my preference that day, so that’s what I did. In fact, I kinda did that all week. I didn’t so it for deep reflection or soul-searching. I’ve had those conversations with myself many times in the last few years. No it was more of dropping everything and slowly de-pressurizing as so not to get the bends. I was tired of trying to get so much done and dealing with so much nonsense at work that doing nothing felt right.
It must’ve worked too. My blood pressure dropped 30 points and my heart rate slowed 20 from their highest. (I’m sure the medication influenced it a little bit too.)
In the end, all tests were negative. There was nothing wrong with me… er, physically. I have a stress test scheduled for late August (the earliest available!) which is going to make for a fine blog post. But in the meantime, I’m back with some interesting observations and some stories to tell.
Oh, and if you have any suggestions on where to look for that camera, let me know. I could use the help. (No it’s not in the toilet!)