stereotypical single woman

I always knew that one day I would be embarrassed by my laissez-faire attitude toward mating my socks. I operate on the principle that I have much better things to do with my time than to spend an afternoon every other week with my socks all laid out on the floor and my furniture while I keep turning in circles trying to match exact mates while simultaneously trying to keep the cats from running off with them. It was also the chore my mother would foist off on my sisters and I when we were children as punishment. I truly hate doing it. People have suggested that I should instead find a boring, nondescript white sock and buy multiples to solve this problem, so that every sock matches the other, sort of like creating your own perfect race in you sock drawer. They would all belong together, no one sock stands out. However, I really like diversity and variation in my socks. I love colored and textured socks, anklet and knee socks, striped and solid, etc… My sock drawer is a true melting pot. After I have done laundry I simply put all socks into my drawer, unmated. In the morning I just grab two - sometimes trying to mate them if their match is obvious and I don’t have to dig too far, but usually I just try to find two of similar cuff length and weight (mismatched colors are kinda fun and quirky, uneven sock thickness will annoy me all day), put them on, and I’m done. No one sees them but me, and I find it amusing, so I’ve never had a problem with my system.

However last night I ended up in the emergency room. I have been having an on again off again bladder infection for a couple of months, and yesterday I had a fever and started having really intense lower back and abdominal pain and heat that felt like it was crawling up my spine. I thought that the bladder infection was back and had turned into a kidney infection. I had made a doctor’s appointment for this morning but even after 2 Motrin 800s last night at midnight I was in too much pain to fall asleep.

After a call to my sister the nurse I was convinced that I shouldn’t wait until the morning, I needed to take care of this now, and got in the car and drove to Metro Health’s Emergency room. There is very little that makes you feel more vulnerable and alone than driving yourself to the emergency room in the middle of the night. I was checked in around 1 a.m., had my vitals taken, was told to pee in a cup, and then sent to wait in a waiting room that hasn’t changed since 1989. There was a very bad movie starring McCauley Caulkin on TBS playing in the corner. A convict was brought in by two cops, shouting “I ain’t shit in four days, motherfucker! You need to loosen this cuffs, you motherfuckin’ assholes! I needs a shot in my ass so I can take a fucking crap! Goddamn, you cunts needs to give me my motherfuckin’ shot! Shit, you all ain’t nothin but motherfuckin’ asses! Shit!’” Then a bleached blonde came in with a migraine, crying hysterically, begging for narcotics, asking every nurse, PCA, doctor, janitor, etc… if they could take care of her right now because she was going to die very soon if they didn’t. A large Hispanic family was in a corner, praying, eating, and consoling each other. If I hadn’t been in so much pain the people watching would have been priceless.

Finally my name was called and I went back into the E.R. Honestly, I had thought they’d take a urine sample, discover that I had an infection, write me a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics, and I’d be on my way. Oh no. I had to strip down and put a hospital gown on, which I find humiliating. I’m very uncomfortable and self-conscious without a bra on unless I’m home alone - after years of gaining and losing weight I’ve developed stretch marks, the effects of gravity are very obvious on the girls, and other circumstances just make it so that I’m just not comfortable with the way my chest looks without a bra, even if it is covered by an ugly gown and the only people who will see me are doctors and nurses who really don’t care what I look like. I asked the nurse if this was really necessary, and she said “Well, if we need to start an antibiotic IV you can’t have anything on.” At that point I realized that I wasn’t going home anytime soon.

So I stripped, put on the gown, got into bed, and realized that while my choice of socks could have been worse, it was still embarrassing, especially considering the hole in the green one, and the fact that my legs really needed to be shaved.

Pretty ugly, huh? After three and half hours of urine samples, blood tests, and ultrasounds of my gallbladder, kidneys, and various other innards, they had absolutely no idea what was wrong with me. I didn’t have a kidney or bladder infection. My gallbladder was normal. But I was still in a lot of pain. All they found was a high white blood cell count that indicates that I may have some sort of infection somewhere in my body. At 4:30 a.m. I was given a prescription for painkillers and sent home with instructions to rest and come back if the pain got worse or my symptoms changed.

I slept right through my alarm this morning and didn’t make it to my doctor’s appointment, but after the barrage of tests last night I really don’t think there’s much more they could have done. I went to work because, well, I can’t afford not to right now. I already took one day off this week for my interview (don’t ask, I have no clue how it went, but right now I’m trying to come up with alternatives just in case I need them) and my PTO time is gone. I’m still in pain, but not as much pain as yesterday, which is a good sign, but I don’t plan on doing much this weekend other than sitting around, sleeping, and taking pain killers. Anybody want to come over and watch movies? If you’re nice to me I’ll share my narcotics.