This blogging every day of January idea is awesome! As an idea, that is. But in reality, it doesn't always happen. For instance, today was my big day to write and blog and line up some potential submissions for online and traditional publications. Yep. Today was the day. Gonna get my writing in gear, and really produce something. Then I opened my eyes, felt an unpleasant sour feeling in my stomach and throat, and suspected correctly that my best-laid plans were about to gang aft agley.
The next few hours were plague-like. Vomit. Sleep fitfully. Vomit again. Eat cracker. Vomit cracker. Have pedialyte popsicle.
Vomit pedialyte popsicle. Sleep fitfully. Vomit. Or more accurately, dry heave. Heave some more. As Bambina said this evening after (god bless them) the afternoon with Gram and Pop: "That sounds UGLY!" Ugly it was. Until I got resourceful. I mean, if you have to have a stem cell transplant with all the attendant medications, side effects and GVHD, you really ought to get some kind of payoff for your troubles, right? My payoff is a giant bag of pharmaceuticals left over from my random health issues. Among them a delightful drug called, generically, Ondansetron. You might know it as Zofran, the drug used to treat chemotherapy nausea. I know it as the drug that saved my bacon this morning. Because let's be real here, after the 6th barf in 3 hours, it's time to head to the pharmacy even if that pharmacy is in your closet.
Speaking of closets full of prescription meds, I'm sure you've heard that Rush Limbaugh has deemed the US health care system sound-as-a-pound based on his "cardiac event" experience last week. Of course. Because I'm sure that Mr. Limbaugh, a famous, insured, wealthy man was treated just the same as anyone else at that hospital. I'll bet he waited 3 hours in the ER waiting area, then probably needed some tests done but decided against them because he couldn't afford them, then capped it off with a stay in a semi-private room with a semi-private bath, with a nurse to patient ratio of 1-30. Yes, I'm so sure Mr. Limbaugh got the real and true US healthcare experience that so many of us have had to contend with. I mean, don't get me wrong. I am beyond fortunate. I am spoiled, even, by the treatment and care and level of service I've received at Dana Farber and NIH and Johns Hopkins. But I've also, as long-time readers will recall, suffered from shitty hospitals, giant medical bills while I was uninsured as an early twenty-something, an absence of medical follow-up, and the attendant pervasive fear (or rather, knowledge) that you are on your fucking own should some company decide that they won't cover that thing you need.
So, I'm off to hopefully not vomit and get some sleep. And if you're in the market for some levaquin or some clobetasol, you just let me know and I'll pull them out of my stash. :)