chapter 62: TAG TEAM — happy barfday

from louisa:

hmmm, not a very happy way to spend a birthday. unless you count being alive as a gift. which i guess i do, especially if the person celebrating had brain surgery four days ago. the birthday day started off well enough.  pain meds at midnight along with a snack of yogurt, chocolate milk and vanilla pudding.  sadly at 3:30am, said snack was puked back up through mouth and nose into a motel garbage can along with the pain meds.  after spending the rest of the day puking, we finally decided mid-afternoon it was time to return to our phoenix stomping ground: st joseph’s hospital, this time the ER. apparently brain surgery patients are royalty in the ER.  as soon as we sat down we were called to go back to a room.  tell me when has this ever happened in a busy ER?  serious VIP! next time i’m gonna try that trick too!  anyhoo, after giving the doc the 411, they hit wade up with a hefty dose of morphine, anti-nausea drugs and a bag of fluid.  his barely healing poor arms were poked again to make way for IV lines.  once a sufficient amount of fluid and morphine had hit his deprived system, they rolled him back for yet another scan to rule out swelling on the brain.  thankfully this scan was clean and the patient patient was deemed well enough to leave for the motel.  so after more than five hours, we hopped in the car and headed to a 24hr CVS to fill his anti-nausea meds.  the pharmacist with the indian accent explained how the suppositories are supposed to work.  what? yep.  i said suppositories!!  so lucky wade on his birthday gets to shove a bullet shaped vaseline coated projectile up his butthole.  he’s lying on the bed as i type, begging to go crap it out. he’s got 20 minutes to go.  happy birthday to wade, indeed!!

———————————————-

from wade:

okay.  well, that was considerably more explicit than i was counting on…  and i’m really against the use of the word “anyhoo,” too, but i told her she could type whatever she wanted.

i’m too out of it to type much, or even read hardly anything.  here are the videos i took today.  and let me leave on this note:  why is it, in hotels and motels, that they use a light above the toilet that would take Paul back to the road to Damascus?  why is it so bright?  that’s one situation where i’m fine leaving a little to the imagination.  but “bright” is the lesser of two problems; it’s 130 degrees in there with the light on, and i just can’t understand it.  the only explanation i can even imagine, is if someone had thought, “hey, i bet we’ll have a large contingency of customers who’d like to take a dump while they’re tanning.”

Dear Hotels and Motels:

We don’t need an extra reason to sweat when we’re on the toilet.  Thanks.  

–Wade Haynes, representing all humans.


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