I've been in bed all day with the spins. I'm not drunk, I just have vertigo, one of the many symptoms of my smorgasbord of chronic illnesses. I've had vertigo before many times, but this time has been different. The iron levels in my blood have been low, so the anemia, combined with the vertigo made super vertigo. When I moved my head last night, the room shook. It was like an earthquake, but not like an actual California earthquake, because I'm used to those and most of them are pretty pussified, but like one you would see in a movie. I stood up, took a step and waited for the walls to come tumbling down, only instead of the walls, it was me.
Jude drove me to the ER with kids in tow, tablets blaring and me covering my ears. Whispers were air raid sirens, blaring, and they weren't taking any care to whisper. I finally got there and had to walk the whole ten feet in, which must have taken me an hour. Or five minutes, but when the car valets look at you like you're insane and watch you in stunned silence, but don't help, five minutes feels like forever.
I signed in with my tremor arm since I'm right handed, and as illegible as the tremor in my hand makes my writing, my left hand would have done a far worse job. I'm almost positive the nurses thought I was OD'ing on something. Thankfully, a wheel chair was brought over by one of the pairs of crisp white shoes I saw while trying not to look up at the lights, which were making me want to wretch.
I was hurried into the back and parked in a room before they asked what was wrong with me. Now that was service. Whatever drug OD/ monster bursting forth from me/demon possession that they I had got me to the top of the queue, so I wasn't complaining, although they could have driven the damn wheel chair slower so my head didn't whirl around the whole ride. They finally got me comfortable, by which I mean sat the hospital bed up and propped the pillow in a position that anyone with a spine would find UNcomfortable and told me to sit back. I tried my best, strained my back, took that uncomfortable pillow and told them that I was anemic and had vertigo. I....was....tal.....king.....slowly.... Think....um.....ing.....slowly...
The doctor gave me Meclizine, which is fancy for Dramamine and booted me. After all that, all I got was this t-shirt and a $100 dose of pills that would have cost me $1 tops over the counter. Whatever. It seemed to do the trick and the earth stopped moving, or at least kept moving, you know, cause it does that.
So four hours, midnight and three kids in a car parking lot later, Jude pulled to the door to help me from my wheelchair throne. Doctor's orders were that I would be on bed rest and Meclizine for the weekend. Jude would need to care for me and the kids, which was a lofty task, considering he still had to work today.
I spent my day in bed, most of it alone, which is how the doctor wanted me to spend it. The kids would creep in to tell me that they missed me and they loved me, which made me want to dash down to be a part of their world and immerse myself in every sentence they uttered. Honestly, I would have lasted ten minutes tops before Army crawling my way back up the stairs, but I did miss them. Jude got them to clean the house and got things in shape. He took three of them shopping and the same three came back, and admirable feat by any parent's standards.
I even got him to pick up Haagen Daas Rocky Road, which I will do unspeakable things for, and I had my daughter bring to me to eat in bed while I watched Grey's Anatomy. But all day, I've longed for something and I couldn't put my finger exactly on what I missed until I slunk downstairs and saw it. I finally caved to my curiosity to see what my kids were doing and there was a container of ice cream that Jude left out accidentally after doling out bowls to my now chocolate covered monsters. I opened the freezer to put the ice cream back and I saw the small pint of coffee ice cream that Jude had picked up from the store for himself.
My Grandma loved coffee ice cream.