Hospitalized Round II: An Apology

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’ve got some issues. If you would like to read more about all of them in detail just pick up any Mental Health magazine or listen to Simple Plan’s “I’m Just a Kid” because that’s basically my life summed up into one embarrassingly depressing and catchy song.

Two major issues I experience include trust and abandonment. I trust no one and I live in constant fear of people leaving me behind to be forgotten and thrown away.

So, from the depths of my ice cold heart that tends to only beat for cute puppies and margaritas, I want to apologize for abandoning you. I was pumping out blogs frequently. You read them, you commented on them, you asked for more. For awhile, I kept up with it but then I just stopped. I know that when I’m feeling hurt, I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuses. So I will spare you mine. Just know that I am sorry and here I am to raise some hell.

Since the last time I posted on here I have changed living situations twice, changed my appearance pretty drastically, and gone back to the hospital.

Each one of these experiences are worth discussing in detail but hey, I can’t dish out all of my life experiences in one post because then I’ll go on another 3 month hiatus and then everyone will forget about me and I’ll die alone without anyone ever knowing how I truly feel about the world
(hint: it involves a lot of fire and burning.)
(another hint: I hate the world)

I’ll just start with my hospital stay because it’s closely related to my previous post regarding my allergic reaction.

We all remember the time I went to the hospital for that allergic reaction which I thought was caused by my shampoo.

I have a picture of my face from that experience that apparently is the funniest thing to ever exist but I refuse to post it on the internet because I would like to maybe possibly (but actually definitely) get laid at some point in the future. And the release of this picture will ruin any chance of that happening. If you want to see it, ask me the next time you see me and I’ll hold my phone at arms length and let you get a few moments of pure hilarity at my expense. Apparently it has healing capabilities according to my melodramatic sister…

image

Movin’ on!

It’s Friday night and I’m trying to party. I’ve got a $10 bottle of Admiral Nelson’s Spiced Rum and a pair of Spanx on. Nothing is going to bring me down.

Everything is fine. I’m with my friends and we’re pre-gaming for some party in the Fort and we’re all laughing and dancing and having fun.

Next thing I know I’m in the bathroom dry heaving for forty five minutes.

After several attempts to rid my body of the Admiral, I fall asleep on the bathroom floor and wake up twenty minutes later and repeat the process.

Eventually my friend T wakes up and asks me how I’m feeling. I make the usual “omg i’m literally dead” comment and she rolls her eyes and says something sassy. Along with this excruciating hangover that I am experiencing, one of my wisdom teeth has decided to come out to play. I would rather watch a 24 hour marathon of static television than experience that pain. With pain comes whining which is what I begin to do. T throws some OTC pain reliever towards me, I down them and try to get out of bed and try to remember what happened last night.

T leaves and it’s just my friend J and me in the apartment. I go in and he immediately says something along the lines of “Hey champ, how are you not dead?”

I laugh and say I don’t even know. He then asks me what I remember.

I tell him I remember pre-gaming and then having a dance party with all of our friends.

His eyes widen and he says “That’s ALL you remember?”

I’ll be brief for the sake of my intensely disintegrating reputation:

I went to two parties. Had several “deep conversations” (?????), discovered I inspired someone to pierce their nipples, passed out on a couch between two strangers, held hands and kissed a stranger, ran away from my friends, and had a twenty minute conversation about how I want my funeral to play out.

(which, in case you were curious, includes a guest list, bouncers, and body shots)

As J is telling me all of this information, my hands begin to tingle. The tingling turns into itchiness. Then the same sensation spreads from my hands to my neck and eventually my head. I’m listening to J and trying to absorb all of the information he is throwing at me but I’m starting to realize what’s happening to me: I’m having an allergic reaction.

I interrupt J by saying, “Uhm, hey. So I don’t want to scare you or anything but I think I might be having an allergic reaction and I’m going to need you to probably take me to the ER.”

Well, three minutes later my face is swollen and I’m breaking out in hives and our journey to the ER commences.

This time I remained a little more calm because I’ve danced this dance before. And J was amazingly supportive and calming and he stayed with me the whole time and I will forever be grateful for his friendship.

So at this point, I’m positive I’m allergic to acetaminophen. After 15 minutes of ingesting it, I had the reaction.

Also, the last time I had the reaction I had taken some because I was on my period and my ovaries were literally planning my demise.

So the treatment process went fairly quickly.

Wait a moment…have we forgotten that I had consumed basically an ENTIRE bottle of rum by myself less than 8 hours ago???

Yeah that doesn’t go away just because your body decides to reject a medication you’ve been taking since you were a small child. Acetaminophen gave me trust issues.

I’m laying in my hospital bed and I’m like “oh fuck me” because I’m starting to gag. J throws me a trashcan and I start hurling into it. The nurse comes running and is extremely concerned and confused as to why I’m vomiting. She grabs me a puke bag which was a long green bag with a big plastic circle attached to it.

Maybe I’m just inexperienced when it comes to throwing up in a safe environment but I was perplexed. I said “what the fuck is this???” and she told me and I let it serve its purpose.

Once I’ve gotten my gag reflex under control, I look at the nurse and tell her that this has nothing to do with my allergic reaction, I’m just hungover as hell.

As soon as this statement leaves my mouth, I was treated completely different by the nurse. Her face dropped and said

“Oh. Well what did you drink?”

I told her the truth and she walked away.

Later on, she said “So you’re allergic to Ibuprofen?”

“I think it was acetaminophen.”

“You think? You mean to tell me you took medication without knowing what it was? Was it in a prescription bottle?”

……………………………………………………okay goodbye.

I’M SORRY THAT I’M NOT A DOCTOR AND I DON’T KNOW THE EXACT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ACETAMINOPHEN AND IBUPROFEN. I’M JUST TRYING TO LET YOU KNOW THAT IT COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OR THE OTHER.

After she made that comment, I stopped talking to her completely. I responded with “K”, “Whatever”, “Nope.”, and “Yup.” for the rest of my stay.

I was being a brat but she can suck my ass. ADIOS.

Soon thereafter I was released back into society where I attended another party and the process began all over again.

You know why?

Because I make decisions based on how funny I think it’ll be when I tell it to someone later on.

Do it for the story, AMIRITE?

I hope you all have forgiven me and I promise to never keep you waiting again.

Bye, beeshes.

MBN

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