Sam and I just spent the last four hours at Baylor Hospital’s emergency room due to me being really, really sick with a 104° fever and having a hard time catching my breath. They gave me “the works,” which included a peepee sample, an I.V., an EKG, a chest x-ray and lots of tubes of blood, which was NOT AN EASY ACCOMPLISHMENT because this involved stabbing me in both hands, both arms, my right shoulder and my right forearm (in three different places). Two nurses also attempted to catheterize me but stopped when I threatened to kill them.
The good news is, I don’t have sepsis, I don’t have pneumonia, I don’t have a urinary tract infection and I don’t have a bacterial infection. I have your everyday run-of-the-mill VIRUS — more commonly known as a SHITTY MYSTERY FEVER — and Sam is presently at Wal-Mart filling my prescription, after which he’ll stop at Five Guys to pick up a couple of hot dogs for me because I haven’t eaten in almost three days and nothing says GET WELL SOON like a couple of big juicy kosher hot dogs.
We had a major “incident” here yesterday. Forgive me if I’m providing too much information, but I was sitting on the toilet in the hall bathroom and when I got up both of my feet were asleep, causing me to lose my balance and fall backwards like a fucking ton of bricks and crack the entire toilet in half, flooding the whole damn bathroom. The clean-up effort was a major undertaking for Sam, who has the patience of a saint, and we just made arrangements for our handyman Gary to come over tomorow morning at 9 to deliver and install a brand new toilet for us. Gary is the best handyman EVER.
Thank you for reading this.
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