Two more pills and I start again!
My last post ended with me crawling to Michael, so I could say “goodbye”. I need to clarify something. I feel like I mislead you a bit when I said crawl. What I really meant to say was I began to slither. What made it turn into more of a slither was the fact my limbs decided to gain 100 lbs, and refused to move. This weight gain prevented me from using the form of crawling that most of us think of i.e. hands and knees crawling.
So I begin to slither towards Michael, who at the moment was dead asleep, with his back to me. By now, you are probably all wondering “why hasn’t she just called out to him?”. Well, the problem was the pain or demon trying to kill me had taken away my ability to speak. All my energy was so focused on fighting through the pain so I could physically get to Mike before I “died” - thus words were not an option. (Doesn’t it all sound so Romantic? The dying girl trying to reach her sleeping lover?) After what seemed liked 30 minutes of slithering across the tile floor, I had gone approximately 3 ½ feet. Please study the map below, it might make this journey a little clearer.
After crawling a remarkable 3 1/2 feet, I notice I had made it to the tub. (Cue Smeagol voice) “My precious tub”. So there I am lying on the floor, wallowing in pain, staring at “my precious”, when a brilliant thought comes to mind. “I should use the tub to pull myself from the floor and, then, when I am standing… get this… walk the rest of the distance to Michael. BRILLIANTTTTT!” ( clapping, shouting, hip hip hurrah!) The next seconds or minutes are really unclear. All I remember is somehow getting to my feet by pulling myself up with the ledge on “my precious”. Things were going as planned UNTIL I pushed the upper portion of my body off the tub railing so I could stand straight and begin walking. BAD IDEA! The walls around my world began crumbling away as “the machete”, dizziness, and my 100 lb limbs came back FULL force. Everything started going dark again, so in a scramble I tried to grab back onto “my precious” and as luck would have it I MISSED!!! I start falling backwards. Can I just tell you how good it felt to fall backwards and jar into the tile floor, as my insides are being torn apart? LOVED IT!
This is my falling pattern.
I understand it’s confusing that I ended up falling behind the tub, but this is what happened people. NO QUESTIONS. As I lay there on my back, trying to breath through the pain I realize the only choice I have left is to call out for help. I immediately call out and do you know what I hear??? I hear a cool, calm, collected voice barely above a whisper saying “Michael. Michael. Michael.” WTH? My world is ending and I’m acting calm? After calling out my husband’s name a few more times in my creepy voice I start getting discouraged. I was discouraged because not only was there so much pain shooting through my body but, I knew, the chance of Mike hearing me was slim to none. Michael is an annoyingly deep sleeper and my dying voice just wasn’t going to cut it.
Now, is when this post gets really sad (well for me at least), and even more dramatic than before. (When I eventually tell you what the doctors diagnosed me with, promise not to send hate mail?) Ok here we go.
Due to the fact my pain somehow tripled, Mike heard none of my calls. I struggled not to give into the urge to shut my eyes. So, I finally did the last thing on my list - I started talking to God. (Yes I should have done this earlier but that’s not how it went. I am being honest.) Here is almost the exact wording of my conversation with God.
“Seriously, God?!? Today I have to die? I. CANNOT. BELIEVE. I. HAVE. TO. DIE. TODAY! Am I going to be one of those stories where the person was perfectly fine one minute, and gone the next? Can’t I see my family or something? Today?!? Don’t I need to work on myself more? Today?!?”
Yes, I whined at God. I am ashamed to admit it, but that is the pretty much what happened. I would like to think in my last moments I would be humble, gracious, and give thanks but I learned I am the opposite. While I continued to whine, in my mind, about the injustices of dying the most beautiful thing happened. I hear Michael sit up and call my name.
Where it all went Down!
Things start happening very quickly now. Mike rushed over and demanded to know what I was doing on the floor. I tell him in my creepy, serious voice that something is very wrong. He crouches down and asks me what he should do. I tell him to call for help. He runs to phone. I tell him to hurry. He calls the front desk. My body starts going numb. (minus my torso of course) Michael asks the concierge how to get to the nearest hospital. I tell Michael there is no way I’m walking to the car. Mike lets the concierge, named RJ ,know he didn’t get the last street. I ask for an ambulance. I hear the words Scottsdale Rd, Maine St, Osbourne. I whisper there is no time for that. Michael puts RJ on hold and walks over. Light switch is flipped. Michael sees me in the light for the fist time. I look at him with my googly eyes. He drops some swear words I can’t write. I look at him and tell him again in my creepy voice “something is very wrong”. He looks at me in horror and drops another swear word. He runs to phone and yells at RJ to dial 911. I start going into shock. Mike is connected to a 911 operator. I start mumbling my apologies? Hotel security comes through the door. This nice man named Drew holds my hand. I almost bite my tongue off with shock. I mumble my apologies. I hear sirens. I mumble my apologies again. Michael asks me where the pain is. I state EVERYWHERE. Then, 12 wonderful men in navy blue rush into my room. I finally close my eyes.
Part III tomorrow. I know I’m dragging this out, but I can’t write it any shorter.