It’s Good To Be Home

So Saturday I was waiting patiently in line at the ER and when my turn came, I explained how my oncologist had sent me in because my heart was beating fast and erratic like a giant butterfly frantically trying to get out. I guess it was a pretty good story and I looked a bit peaky, so I got greenlit to the top of the pile.
The desk lady told me that I wouldn’t have to wait long. There aren’t many times in life when it’s a good thing for someone to tell you that you look rotten–to get out of a test or maybe a particularly gruesome day of work, but as long as you have to be in the ER, you might as well look like you belong there.
The dreaded ER waiting room would be but a smidge of my day. I wouldn’t even have time to wonder what horrible infectious diseases were sitting next to me.
Almost immediately, before Barrett even made it in from parking the car, my name was called.
“Bridget Zinn.”
I stood up.
So did another lady.
As I was trying to catch the eye of the triage nurse, the other lady beat me to the door.
“Ms. Zinn?” He said to her.
SHE NODDED!
And proceeded to plunk herself down on the on the chair in the tiny triage room. My chair.
Before the door shut, I shouted, “I’m Bridget Zinn!”
The triage nurse paused.
“Really. I’m Bridget Zinn.”
Eventually, they got the imposter up from my chair and back out to the waiting room with the other not-greenlit ER patients.
This lady “claimed” she hadn’t heard the triage nurse correctly.
The truth is that she was willing to steal my identity and get treated for something entirely different than she actually had just to budge up a couple of spots in line.
Sheesh.
Test and test and test and test and one particularly painful test later, I almost wished I’d given her my spot. Especially when my ER doc said that there was a 90% chance that they’d be admitting me to the hospital. Apparently there are all sorts of risks with cancer patients for infections and blood clots and things that could cause the erratic beating butterfly heart problem.
Except that my tests almost all came back in pretty fine shape, including the ultra-painful one. We even discovered that the blood transfusions last Thursday took and I was rich with red blood cells.
So we made outlandish promises that should the least thing come up we’d come right back, plus Barrett gave him that trustworthy caretaker look he’s so good at and finally they let us go.
They didn’t catch him buying me chocolate cake (I only ate a tiny bit, I swear!) almost immediately after getting the instructions to keep me off stimulants for a couple of days INCLUDING chocolate.
It’s good to be home.
Love to you all,
Bridget