I Blame the Dehydration
1:30 am. I wake up. I sit in bed, listening to music and dozing for the next several hours. Probably the nest, most relaxed part of my day.
8:00 am. I get up. I finally pull myself out of my half asleep stupor and make myself start my day. I’m a little quite, a little unsure what to do or say, but all is well all the same. After all, I don’t have to be talking all the time.
8:30 am. I start feeling sick. Cramping (but that’s not unusual, considering my current station in life). Lightheadedness. Nausea. The cramping is the worst. It is probably the cause of the other two. Lovely. What a great start to my day!
9:30 am. That’s when I actually get sick. The cramping gets the best of me, knocking me to my knees. It isn’t a pretty sight. But then again, when was this sight ever?
10:00 am. I watch a movie, desperately trying to find some relief somewhere. Sleep is one of them. I keep my water handy, but refuse food because then stomach sickness doesn’t stop. Joy.
11:30 am. By now, I have everyone worried. I still haven’t gotten any better. I feel just as bad as I did before. On the urging of my mother, I ask my roommates to help me get to urgent care. I almost pass out along the way.
1:30 pm. After finally finishing the paperwork just to get me in the door, I start to feel better. Ironic, no? And soon after, my name is called. “Annamarie!” Because “Annie” isn’t my legal name. I am called by my full name more tines today than I have been in years.
2:45 pm. I am released with the words, “Good to the ER. Get an IV. You’re extremely dehydrated.” This after trying to draw blood and coming up empty. This after doing tests to see if something else caused my pain and my sickness. Simply dehydration. I know some people aren’t very happy about that one.
3:30 pm. Our ride doesn’t arrive, so we choose to walk. We think we’re headed to the right place, only to discover upon arrival that our destination is actually on the other side of town (and definitely not within walking distance). Another Uber is called.
4:00 pm. We finally arrive at the ER. At first, I am called back in quick succession. Triage. Blood work. EKG. X-ray. Bam, bam, bam, bam! But after that it slows…
6:00 pm. And slows…
7:30 pm. And slows…
8:00 pm. Until around 8 in the evening, my name–“Annamrie!” alone because no one dares try the master name–is called and I am taken back.
8:30 pm. I am finally attached to the IV. The one thing I’ve been waiting for at last!
9:15 pm. But, alas, they have more plans for me. More tests. They send me to a CT scan, where I stare at the ceiling for several seconds as I feel an unnatural warmth spread through my body. Not entirely unwelcome after sitting in the freezing hallways. But a frightening experience all the same. As I lie there, half of me wishes my parents could be here, rather than a thousand miles away prepping for bed.
10:00 pm. After going through all those tests, I find out that nothing is actually wrong with me, other than the aforementioned dehydration. I probably could have told you that. I suppose it’s better safe than sorry, especially in situations like these. I don’t blame the medical professionals for keeping me in the ER for six and a half hours.
10:30 pm. I am discharged! At last! Oh, sweet, sweet relief! No more machines. No more needles. No more hospital. At last, oh, at last!
11:00 pm. I arrive home. Rather than crawling into bed and passing out (as my body wishes I would), I instead write this, because my mind is more awake than it has been all day. I blame the dehydration for that one.
Prompt: Narrate the day you had, since we all know how eventful it was.