Following the most intense three day bender of my life, I called out sick two consecutive days in which I was unable to move/eat/drink.
Weds I started to feel better so ventured outwards. Made it maybe a block got dizzy completely passed out and took a digger on third ave head first (and allegedly followed up with a seizure-like stint of fantasticness). To which I had all these good samaritans trying to help me sit up and tell them the date (I was off a day) and how many fingers were they holding up (couldn’t swing that one) and my age (I aced it!) and what really stands out is one person asking me if I wanted water but did I mind if it was sparkling water (I didn’t mind). I was totally bleeding all over the place from my face (someone offered a napkin and did I mind they only had one – I didn’t mind).
So I had a fire truck, an ambulance and I think even police. It would be an attention seekers dream scenario. And I tried to tell them I could go home, that it was just around the corner and they were like seriously you want to refuse medical treatment? And I was like no, no maybe not seriously. Then I asked someone to get the name of the primary samaritan in charge of the opp so I could write him a thank you card because the poor guy looked ready to cry and he was really nice dude to hold up a random bloody chic on the sidewalk (never let anyone talk smack about New Yorkers).
In the ambulance I realized I didn’t have my phone on me and couldn’t call anyone and only knew my mom’s number off the top of my head. But I didn’t want them to call her. But they said if I died in the hospital I’d be a Jane Doe so I had to give them a number (EMTs = tough love). So after we went back and forth on this for awhile I heard them say I’d need a plastic surgeon and I didn’t want a random going at it so I had to call my mom and had to ask for my sister whom I told I had sprained an ankle in the park so she wouldn’t freak out and could she give me my father’s number. Entire production. Who doesn’t heart divorce nation?
And this entire time I had been wearing my sunglasses and the EMT went to take them off my head at which point I realized they were physically stuck to my head. And I was all no, no and they were all yes, yes. Hence removing my sunglasses to discover a four inch wide, deep gash down to the bone (go big or go home!)
Upon my arrival to the ER I got an EKG and a Catscan and all of that good stuff and they didn’t want to discharge me because I was basically a hot mess of everything being banged up (seriously – for someone who has never been hospitalized in her life – I went all out). No one would provide me a mirror (or painkillers or water for that matter, but I have my priorities). I was positioned by the door and kept receiving looks of horror from people (I kind of felt like offering a kid a dollar to track me down a mirror).
Eventually my father arrived and bailed me out to get me to a plastic surgeon. The eager resident looked kind of bummed but I can only assume he can work his technique on an orange or banana or something along those lines. 60+ stitches of awesome later I have the most legit story of my life. I don’t even need to date what with the stuff I get myself into.
Oh and while in the emergency room I think from the looks I was getting I thought I was dying so I had my father 411 my boss so he could call me out dead for a bit (in a state of shock my thoughts are call out of work) and I think I was still in shock when I was talking to my boss because one of my work friend’s texted that there are rumors about my negative state at the office, so I presume they’ll be kind of disappointed when I return looking normal & not missing part of my head. Before then I have to get the photos from the doc as visuals progress a story from great to unprecedented and I bet the photo with the open gash is awesome.
So anyhow the perk to all this is I get a daily fruit dish and my friends arrive bearing cupcakes and gummibears. I may need to fall on my head more often.
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