Days 14-15, and a fic promise

[bironic]

Just back from the hepatologist's office, where my doctor sent me to follow up on some scans I had last year. (I'm fine; we're just, er, making sure that's true.) Her office is on the main campus of the huge teaching hospital three-quarters of my family used to work for, though not always in, and I love going there. I'm sure that says a lot about how I was never very sick growing up, nor was my family, that I would enjoy a hospital, but I do; it's big and bustling and exciting and has cutting-edge facilities and the elevators are deep so beds will fit in them and there are people in scrubs and lab coats joking with each other and I'm familiar with the place, know the system of entrances and roads and many of the hallways, remember eating in the front cafeteria when I was a kid, remember visiting wings like the maternity ward and emergency department as part of my job; and now it's fun to reimagine it as Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital too, or rather to soak up more details for possible future use in a House fic.

The points are:

(a) I will be going for a second MRI at some point, which I continue to think is cool, and this time I will finish the House/Wilson MRI PWP WIP (and many other three-letter acronyms) I started after the first scan; and

(a.1) You know you've been hanging out in fandom too much when... #64: While waiting for your gastroenterologist, you get out of the exam chair to squint at an anatomical diagram of the anus and rectum for research, and think about doing a semi-parody House/Wilson fic where they use all the crazy medical terms for the tiniest muscles and things. I want a sex scene that uses the terms "anal crypt" and "squamocolumnular junction."

(a.2) Relatedly, care of my sister: There is apparently a Burger King in the midwest somewhere with a typo on its front sign so that it is advertising "Black Anus Burgers."

(b) Here are some memories associated with this building, from when my dad worked there.*

*I know many of you follow my themes when you post your own memories, and that most people probably have unpleasant memories associated with hospitals, so you're just as welcome to post "the time I went to work with my parent" memories as hospital ones. As if you needed my blessing for that. Right. Memories now.



14. Elementary School

I remember:

- Going by one day after school with my sister and my mom, driving up all the way to the left of campus, to a trailer beside the building. I think he was in a transition point then between actual offices. Whenever I think of movie trailers, I substitute his in my head. I remember stepping up to the door and maybe going inside, but not much else.

- Possibly the same day, going over to the hospital proper and walking through the hallways. Each wing had a different color scheme for the floor tiles; one was dark brown and blue. And all the halls were lined with photographs. On that day, wherever we were, it was some photo contest they'd held or were holding, with big framed shots of hot air balloons and puppies and spraying city hydrants and close-up shots of kids with big eyes and freckles.

- A secretary my dad knew -- Ann, or Bernadette, I think -- once gave me candy when I was very young. Necco wafers or Sweet Tarts or something similar in a roll. For years, that's all I remembered of her. My dad still teases me about it.

- At Christmastime, the hospital always put together a ton of big paper gift bags. They must have been for pediatric patients, although at least some employees' children got them too, because every year my dad volunteered to help put them together, he brought us each one home. One year, I remember actually being there and seeing the bags in a room or hallway, and taking mine home. In various years, those bags brought us a New Kids on the Block doll (see second memory this year), colorful foam balls, funky '80s cloth-band watches, a slim automatic camera, and a Sony Walkman back when those were a Big Deal.


15. Middle School

My mom's best friend's son -- the one who lived around the corner and used to let us play with his Micromachine cars -- fell off his bike in middle school and ruptured his spleen. We went to visit him at the hospital. I remember that he seemed pretty normal lying in the bed. He told us the story of how it happened; something about hitting the curb or falling off and sitting on the curb, bumping the bicycle seat on the way down, walking home and then coming to the hospital. Someone else in the room -- one of his sisters, maybe -- had scraped her shin on something, and it had mostly scabbed up but still bled slowly and thickly and I kept looking at it as we all stood or sat there talking.
 

Comments

[topaz-eyes.livejournal.com]

I want a sex scene that uses the terms "anal crypt" and "squamocolumnular junction."

Ah, fond memories of my histology course in university. I was the only person in my program who got to take it. (I was in a coop program--the course was one of the few that fit into my schedule.) There were a few toxicology students, and the rest were pre-veterinary students. That was one of the few courses where I actually woke up at 4 am to study. :-)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

:D I understand! That stuff is incredibly interesting. I never took med/pre-med classes at school and have had to make do with a pathology textbook and medical encyclopedias and House fic instead.

[purridot.livejournal.com]

I know nothing about hospitals. I think I may have been in one once in my life. I would be happy if it stayed that way!

I'm sure that says a lot about how I was never very sick growing up, nor was my family, that I would enjoy a hospital, but I do.

I love going to the dentist -- to the point where I almost don't get why people don't like going. I think it is like having a spa treatment. My best friend's dad was my dentist as I was growing up so to me it's a relaxing treat to go. Apparently when I was little I used to fall asleep in the chair. And afterwards, my mother would buy me a Nancy Drew book for being so good. OMG, I see it all so clearly :D

The only bad thing is the fluoride treatment (yuck). I'd rather have a root canal than a fluoride treatment. (My dentist says I am the only patient he ever had who *suggested* a root canal).

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Oops -- theme was supposed to be The time I went to work with my parent.

My dad's a lawyer, and when I was young I spent a lot of time being "babysat" there. Part of the "babysitting" included having me type up clients' wills and such.*

*This would be about age 12 -- before that, I mostly made dollhouses out of office supplies.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

The theme is whatever you want it to be. :) I just didn't want people to think they needed to post about some horrible time they'd had at a hospital.

That's cool, getting to transcribe wills and other documents. I've never read a will. Are they interesting or boring? Do you get a sense of the people behind them?

Your dentist story is adorable. How cute would it have been if your dentist had snapped a photo of you sleeping in the chair and put it up in the office to assure other patients? (Unless they'd've thought you'd been sedated.... Hm.)

Have you had a root canal? I haven't, but my mom has, and they don't look fun at all. At least, not the way they were performed 10 years ago, which I know has changed since. Don't like the taste of the fluoride?

[purridot.livejournal.com]

I always thought that if I ever became a lawyer, estate law would be the most interesting (and Nancy Drew-like -- she was always looking for wills).

I find wills sort of comforting. I like loose ends being neatly tied up. One thing I remember from the first time I had to type up a will was to never finish a sentence on one page -- it must always run over onto the next page, to make it difficult for someone to "insert an extra page", if you know what I mean. ;-)

I think I've had two root canals in total (I don't remember any details, I was asleep!) Before I left my soul-sucking last job with its dental plan, I had ALL my childhood fillings replaced. Took 2 days (not appointments -- *days* :D

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Our company just picked up dental coverage (next stop, optical. please.), and I really need to go. But it means finding a new dentist, since my old one doesn't take this particular insurance, and I ... haven't done it.

to never finish a sentence on one page -- it must always run over onto the next page, to make it difficult for someone to "insert an extra page"

Oh, that's interesting. And sad, but it makes sense. I agree that it's neat to see a life wrapped up like that, but estate lawyers must spend a good amount of their time mediating arguments between/among beneficiaries.

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Sounds like you don't really need a dentist! *is jealous*

True, family arguments do happen, which is the ugly part.

Much more fun is tracking down beneficiaries! Just this year my dad had a case this where private detectives had to be hired to try to find a person born, er, out of wedlock who had inherited a happy sum :D

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ha! That is great.

Sounds like you don't really need a dentist!

Ah, I wouldn't say that is true. I have sucky gums, for one thing. And also I have to go to the dentist practically every time I eat popcorn, because inevitably a sliver of kernel gets lodged somewhere I can't reach. So I stopped eating popcorn. :) But I don't take very good care of my teeth, and then I feel guilty and fearful of what they'll find when I *do* go to the dentist, and then I have recurring dreams that I'm looking in the mirror to find my mouth all disfigured, or that my teeth are loose and falling out.

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

I have those dreams all the time - I think they're supposed to represent a feeling of powerlessness, or such, but I'm beginning to suspect that they're the result of subliminal messages implanted in the lectures of dental hygienists...

[bironic.livejournal.com]

I hate those dreams. And yes -- the symbolism works well, but mostly I think they're impetus to make an appointment.

[daasgrrl.livejournal.com]

or that my teeth are loose and falling out

Ack! What is it with that dream? I haven't had it recently, but it's something that's been a recurring theme. I hate the dentist, had very irregular checkups as a kid, avoided them completely in early adulthood. I've had orthodontic work, though, which almost-but-not-really compensated for not going, in the sense that it was the same general area *g*.

Over the past few years I've started going once a year or so, but only out of guilt, and also because it is quite nice getting your teeth all cleaned and polished, to the extent it almost compensates for all the horrible high-pitched whining noises (and that's just me...). Never had a cavity though.

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

My neice used to vomit whenever she'd have to use fluoride.
And root canals aren't fun, but they're not as horrible as they're made out to be, at least mine wasn't. Aleve works way better for tooth pain than any other OTC (and some non-OTC) painkillers, btw. fun fact, use it as you wish.

Speaking of MRI porn: did you see that dutch study about the sex in the MRI, where they actually hired gymnasts to have sex in the MRI so they could take films while the sex was going on?

[bironic.livejournal.com]

OMG, really? I have to go look that up.

[roga.livejournal.com]

I will just say that I was looking through some documents once and I found my dad's will and it FREAKED ME OUT. I think it's completely irresponsible for a parent not to leave a will, but still, just seeing it existed made me want to hide the safe and forget the envelope ever existed.

[purridot.livejournal.com]

*nods* I know exactly what you mean. When I would help make wills for other people -- even family friends -- it was not upsetting. But I did not enjoy seeing my parents' wills at all.

In my province, holograph (handwritten) wills are legal, and you don't need witnesses. I've had mine sitting in my desk drawer for many years (everything goes to the humane society!)

[roga.livejournal.com]

Yikes. There is nothing that feels more like tempting fate than writing a will, you know? Even though it's the RIGHT thing to do. *shudders*

[bironic.livejournal.com]

My mom handed me a copy of her will a couple of years ago after she'd divorced my dad, and that was definitely surreal. My friend's mom had died a few years earlier and that hit me hard, and thinking about it happening to my own mom -- I mean, even though you know it's going to happen eventually, it feels suddenly more real when you're holding that envelope and thinking about what the circumstances might be when you need to open it.

[roga.livejournal.com]

It's chilling. The only conversation I ever had about it with my mom was when we were talking about organ donations and euthanasia over lunch, and we both said, "uh, you know that if anything ever happens I want everything donated, right?", and then my mom added that we should not hesitate pulling the plug, or "helping her go" or whatever should the need arise. I think it might have started from talking about former PM Sharon, whose been in a coma for the past two years now, and she never wants to reach that situation.

Anyway, so that was our small talk, which was never mentioned since.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

I think it might have started from talking about former PM Sharon

I was going to say, organ donation, euthanasia and other end-of-life decisions are not exactly a common topic to just come up over lunch. But that seems a natural lead-in.

I need to talk to my parents about their choices. Almost brought it up to my dad at dinner tonight, actually, after reading your comment.

[roga.livejournal.com]

it's been two years. One just can't help but wonder if he'd still be alive if he weren't a former Prime Minister, where making any decision would arise in too much controversy. I really feel for him and his family.

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

Clearly you have excellent dental hygiene - what I associate with going to the dentist isn't pain, but guilt. I would die happy if I never had to hear another lecture on flossing regularly - and yes, I know I could solve that by actually doing it, but I never have floss handy when I think about it. Dentists should give out floss instead of toothbrushes...

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Clearly you have excellent dental hygiene

LOL, quite the opposite! When I was a kid I had to go all the time. Now that I am "grown up" I never seem to get cavities. So, there is something to be gained with age ;-)

My vet thinks I should brush my cat's teeth but I don't think I will try.

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

Your vet is a sadist!

I've never actually had a cavity - I had one filling after mananging to avoid going to the dentist for several years (I blamed it on not having dental coverage). I have terrible gums, though (because I don't floss enough). I maintain, however, that my gums wouldn't bleed nearly as much if they didn't keep stabbing them with sharp, pointed picks...

[bironic.livejournal.com]

I agree with this comment. :)

[elynittria.livejournal.com]

My vet thinks I should brush my cat's teeth but I don't think I will try.

LOL! I actually did try with Nadja. Never again! (Not unless I purchase heavy leather gauntlets first.)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

My dentist once told me that adults don't really get cavities, which was sort of a relief since I'd spent so many years worrying about them. (I had maybe one growing up, but then I had several after my braces came off; whether that was from not brushing well enough when they were on, or from the orthodontists scraping away some of the enamel along with the cement, no one can be sure, but apparently it's quite common.)

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

"My dentist once told me that adults don't really get cavities..."

What?! Then whyyyyyyy did I get my first cavity when I was 19 and now can't freaking stop getting them? D:

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Because you just have to be different?

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

Apparently so!

[roga.livejournal.com]

All the times I've ever been in a hospital, in order:

1. Obviously, birth. My grandmother had broken her arm (diving into a pool or something) and couldn't get to my mother fast enough, and so the first person to visit my mother in the hospital was my grandmother's friend, the then-Prime Minister's wife.

2. San Francisco - my youngest sister was born. I don't remember anything but the video footage, which shows me by her crib, asking my parents, "What, she already has a watch? Why don't I get a watch?" Clearly the concept of hospital bracelets was beyond my grasp.

3. 2002 - my grandfather spent the last few months of his life in the hospital. My dad and his sister visited him all the time. One time, I asked to come too. He couldn't talk, but he could mouth some words, and nod, and to my surprise - because I really hadn't expected him to - he looked like he could understand everything I was saying, and smiled with his eyes, and squeezed my finger and reacted to my words. I talked about nonsense - school, nothing; it was weird keeping up a one sided conversation, especially with my dad in the room. My grandfather was always a very hard, not very affectionate man, but here he surprised me, and I'm so glad I went. I knew then that it would probably be the last time I ever saw him alive, and it was. It was a very natural death; he died about a month before the age of 90, and most of that time in excellent health.

4. 2003 - I visited my mom at work, once. It was boring.

5. 2004 - visited a good friend of mine, who'd just had abdominal surgery to remove a tumor. The entire situation was a bit surreal; we talked about her physics homework (because she was insane and still made the Dean's List during the semester she had cancer), and about Oliver Twist, which she was reading, and tried to make her laugh but not too much because it hurt.

6. 2006 - even more surreally, another good friend of mine got cancer, so I accompanied her to a couple of tests, and to chemo once. We spent it doing crossword puzzles and I generously let her help me study for my calculus test. Both of my friends are okay now, by the way.

7. Last year I visited another friend, who was having weird leg issues, in the hospital, and we watched Heroes episodes that I brought her on my laptop.

C'est tout! As you can see, I've hardly ever been (knock on wood), and never for myself (knock on wood), and never for anything traumatic (knock on wood).

And yes, last year when I went, I was totally doing mental research for House fics.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Yay, I'm not the only one! :)

1. Sorry to hear about your grandmother's arm (many many many years later...), but I am charmed by the story of who came to visit in her place. It's like being blessed at your birth; like having royalty personally attend your mother's bedside. I mean, not like royalty at all, but for some reason my mind's going there, and it's charming. Yes.

2. and 4. - Hee!

3. That sounds so sad and sweet. I'm glad he went peacefully and that you were there to see him before he died, and that on top of it he softened up towards the end.

My grandfather was always a very hard, not very affectionate man, but here he surprised me, and I'm so glad I went.

My mom's father died when I was in middle school. We were never close; he hadn't lived near us until his last few years -- long story, but the short version is he ended up in an adult home nearby, and my mom, who'd never gotten along with him, took care of him in his last days. He had always been very stoic and stingy with both money and affection. But before he died -- not so naturally, unfortunately; he fell down some stairs -- he once said to her, as she was driving him to or from an eye surgery appointment, "You're a good kid." And that really affected her.

5. and 6. - Wow; that is an unlucky coincidence. I'm glad they're both okay. Your friend who made Dean's List sounds so impressive! I'd like to think I'd have been so dedicated, but I can't imagine pulling that off while being so sick and frightened.

7. I thought for a moment that you said House, not Heroes, which would've been perfect for the leg-in-hospital thing. Ah well. Probably best not to watch people get sicker and sicker while you're in the hospital yourself.

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

We grew up in a small town with one hospital. I remember looking through the hospital window at my niece just after she was born (who is five years younger than I am). :-)

I remember being in a larger hospital a bit further away for that orthopedic surgery, and the terrible gowns (red and white striped) and how they'd wake me up in the middle of the night to take our vital signs. And my parents brought me the comics every weekend. My father drew a Mickey Mouse head on the left foot of my double leg cast, and my brother-in-law wrote 'left' and 'right' on the feet. When I got home I had to sleep in the living room because I couldn't move around, and my mother had all of these painted ceramic heads (which, written out, sounds terribly macabre) on the walls, which were terrifying in the dark.

In high school I had a community service job feeding patients in the nursing home attached to the smaller local hospital, and I was assigned to this man who was in his fifties with severe alzheimers', which was really depressing. All I can remember about the whole experience was that he had a beard, his name was Ron, and that the food always had a peculiar sulphuric smell, like those boxed mashed potatoes. Even the meat and some of the vegetables had that smell. Very not-pleasant.

My uncle's mother-in-law was in the same nursing home (I have no idea if she recognized me or not, but I recognized her) and she would always shout at the nurses to give her a beer. (Picture this little woman in her late eighties/early nineties doing that.) My aunt (lovely motherly Catholic aunt type) used to frequently drop by and leave her beer with the nurses along with instructions that she was only to have one a day.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

LOL. That's a great image. I didn't know they could do that -- give the patients / residents alcohol like that, I mean.

The ceramic heads do sound scary. Stuff becomes scarier at night anyway.

May I ask what you needed orthopedic surgery for?

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

I think they can with permission of their families? As long as the patients don't get violent or bother other residents. :-)
The orthopedic surgery was for my spastic diplegia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spastic_diplegia) (I was born prematurely): they basically went in and physically stretched several tendons in the backs of my legs because they were far too tight. (These days they can do some of that with medication and botox therapy: the botox basically makes the muscles more rigid, which in the case of over-active deep muscles, means they behave closer to normal. :-D) I spent six weeks in a double leg cast with a three foot bar between the ankles, and six weeks in a double leg cast without the bar between the ankles. It was somewhat less than fun. :)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Oh, interesting. I have been wondering since you mentioned that you couldn't walk on your own for a while when you were a child.

And hooray for another non-cosmetic use for Botox.

I had to wear a special pair of orthopedic shoes when I was a toddler to correct/prevent pigeon toes; they were little outwardly turned white shoes like rigid boots, with a flat metal brace between the soles at the ball of the foot. I think it was utterly unnecessary. If anything, my feet point outward nowadays.

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

That one episode where House injected the botox into the guy's throat because he couldn't speak after surgery? I actually squeed and poked The Larger Boy (spouse) and said "look, botox!" over and over, and because he's used to my antics, he just sort of humored me. :-D
Yeah, I couldn't walk unassisted until I was five, and now I use forearm crutches, which aren't 100% necessary (I don't use them when I'm inside, for example) but do kind of help with the not falling down thing. (Of course people constantly assume that disabled == idiot, which makes me totally want to write a fic where House is subjected to Greyhound for some reason because there's no place where that's worse than Greyhound and he'd KILL THEM ALL. :-D
I've seen those shoes! They look horrifying, like baby torture devices. Did they hurt, or do you remember?

[bironic.livejournal.com]

If anything, they were only annoying for restricting movement. Obviously I couldn't wear them when I needed to walk, but my parents would put them on me when I was playing or resting in the baby-carrier. But I don't know if I remember that or just think I remember it because I've seen home video and pictures of myself in them.

and said "look, botox!" over and over, and because he's used to my antics, he just sort of humored me. :-D

Hee. I know Botox is used to treat hyperhidrosis and some neurological/spinal conditions, too. Much niftier than wrinkle suppression.

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

My first memory of being admitted to hospital memory was when I had knee surgery at age 14. The surgeon had told me that if it was a minor tear, I'd wake up with a light cast. The bigger the cast, the more serious the injury. When I woke up in recovery, the first thing I did was feel the cast - which was very big indeed. I think they kept me in hospital for two days. What I remember most is refusing to take painkillers unless ordered to, because I was convinced I would get addicted - which makes me uniquely not-qualified to write House...

Ten years later, I ended up in hospital again, this time in France after injuring the same knee (torn meniscus). The French surgeon was very unimpressed with my scars from the previous surgery, especially when he found out how old I'd been (I think he muttered something about mutilation). This time, when I awoke, I was significantly more dozy from the anaesthetic, so much so that the friend I was traveling with had to point out that something odd was taped to my chest. It was a pill bottle containing - as the surgeon proudly pointed out the next day - the removed cartilage. "A pin!" he explained (pins were all the rage at the time). We had a little difficulty communicating - he insisted on talking in English and I insisted in talking in French. Except when I told him I was heading straight to Spain as soon as I was released. He sputtered a bit, completely at a loss for English words, until finally he shouted, "Je ne suis pas la policier, mais ce n'est pas prudent!"

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Ha! You made him forget a whole language with your gallivanting about on an injured knee. (Did you make it through the trip all right?)

What I remember most is refusing to take painkillers unless ordered to, because I was convinced I would get addicted - which makes me uniquely not-qualified to write House...

But it does set you up nicely to write Wilson's moral superiority if you're so inclined.

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

But it does set you up nicely to write Wilson's moral superiority if you're so inclined.

ahahahaha I find this especially amusing because I am so inclined, and I also refused painkillers when I was in the hospital. (Though, I wasn't very worried about addiction. It's just that brain surgery doesn't really hurt much.)

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

Ah, Wilson's moral superiority - one of the things I like least about him (and myself), which is probably why I water it down a bit too much.

That was the last major injury on the trip, I think (me - both knees skiing and then the cartilage, K - a broken finger and bruises from a moped accident). We were in Pamplona for the running of the bulls when it came time to remove the stitches, and we didn't want to bother anyone at a clinic, as they were probably otherwise occupied, so I made K cut them out with her Swiss Army knife.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Brave! With the tiny scissors? Did you pour alcohol on your knee or something?

Ah, so this was not the same K of recent fame who often inspires lines in your House stories?

[mer-duff.livejournal.com]

I think we used the small knife. There were very few stitches, so it wasn't that big a deal. It's possible we dribbled sangria on the knee first ($1/litre!!!).

Heh - I wouldn't let that K anywhere near me with scissors or a knife. He said once that if we'd ever hooked up, one of us would have ended up killing the other - apparently he even had a plan (whereas I only ever had fantasies).

[thirdblindmouse.livejournal.com]

But it does set you up nicely to write Wilson's moral superiority if you're so inclined.

Yay, unreliable narrator! Although I actually find myself missing the third person omniscient, and really enjoy whenever I come across it. Of course, I suppose you could have an unreliable third person omniscient, like the narrator in Arrested Development.

[thirdblindmouse.livejournal.com]

The time I went to work with my parent? That was my entire childhood.

I was a working baby. A week after birth, my mother was standing with me in the unemployment line, having been fired as of the day I was born. A month after that I was flying around the country with her on business, my mother having been reinstated after she suggested that lawyers might be interested in the legality of what looked an awful lot like firing a woman for having a baby. Of course, I don't remember any of this. One of my earliest memories -- perhaps the earliest -- I have was of being in my mother's office (a different job, one less schmucky), and how she used to hide those straight pretzels she still loves in one of her drawers. I spent enough of my childhood at my mother's various companies that watching the movie Office Space makes me think less "soulless lifesucking job" than "homey play space". I loved the white boards in all the cubicles. One of my mother's coworkers had a particularly big one in his, so while I was too shy to talk to him, I wasn't too shy to pilfer all the coloured erasable markers I could find and draw incessantly on his whiteboard. I remember being very proud of a huge mosquito I had drawn; so proud that I wouldn't be surprised if my mother still remembers it.

I want a sex scene that uses the terms "anal crypt" and "squamocolumnular junction."

I want an anything that features the word "squamocolumnular". That is one word that is not fooling around!

[nicocoer.livejournal.com]

We always would drive the extra couple of miles to a different hospital than our normal one. And (I'm not sure if I've shared this before, I think I did last year but need to share it again) here's one of many reasons why:

My sister was 13, I think. For once, she was helping someone else, namely her friend, clean up the river bank around a summer cottage. She pushed a branch aside when climbing up a bank, and it came back and hit her in the face. She fell six feet and landed her head on a cement block. Her friend described it as a sickening thump. She got up, and they went into the summer cottage. Her friend's father's current girlfriend was a Nurse, and she did what she could and urged her to go to the emergency room. She waited until after my mother got home from work. They left for the local hospital after much protesting on my sister's part.

The Emergency room doctor declared she had whiplash and sent her home with a bottle of pain killers after x-raying the back of her head. A week later she was looking swollen as hell in her face, so the family doctor sent her in for an MRI at a different local hospital. And called her back in immediately. According to my mother, the PA took one look and slide down the wall, head in his hands.

Turns out that the hospital she had originally gone to had not done any tests other than the X-ray- and that because they didn't X-ray the from, they missed something crucial. When she hit that cement, her brain had struck the front of her skull, the part they didn't check, so hard that it cracked her skull. And now, a week or more later, the other doctor could see a hematoma on her brain.

They zoomed her down to Pittsburgh, and my grandmother picked me up. My sister was to see a specialist, she told me, and so mum wouldn't be home until late.

The next day, we missed school to go down to Pittsburgh. They were scheduling her an Emergency surgery. No body told me at the time, and I'm not sure if I'm great full or upset about that, but They didn't jsut take us down because she was in the hospital.

My brother and I were taken down because there was a good chance that this was going to be our last chance to say goodbye.

My Biological father Flew down from CT, though he was in denial about it being that serious. Then again, at the time he didn't believe in Psychiatric medication either, prolly because a doctor had suggested it to him and he was offended by the suggestion. Any how, He wasn't even willing to have us stay in his hotel room. wanker.

The room she was in had a window, and a TV, and lots of cushy chairs- it was a lot like the rooms you see on TV they have chairs enough for families to crash on while they wait to see if their kid is going to die. Only more wires and a feeling of it being less private and colder. My baby sister's head was already shaved, and her face was so swollen that she could barely see out her eyes. IT was frightening, but more so because no one had told be what was going on, assuming that I would have a breakdown.

My sister came through the surgery alright. But they had found not one, but Two hematomas, and one of them was the size of a small orange. Her brain was damaged in the area where behavioral issues and impulse control was stored. And her dreams of being in the military vanished when they put two metal plates in her head.

Right now, I'm looking at another issue with my baby sister. and my god, I don't want to loose her, or her spirit, or any of the other things that happen when girls are faced with issues too big for them. I wish I could just protect her forever, even though sometimes she's evil and spiteful. But. But she's my Baby sister. . . Sorry. I just. not coping very well right now. Hope this wasn't too depressing, yours weren't.

. . . oh, wow. I went over the Character limit, so. um can this one count for two? since it's so huge. ;_;

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I do remember that story. It's very lucky that the second doctor found the problem in time and she was able to be helped.

I hope you and your sister get through whatever is going on now. My thoughts are with you.

[thewlisian-afer.livejournal.com]

14. Going to work

My dad's a mail carrier and sometimes early on Sundays he used to go to the post office and sort the stuff that had been left there on Saturday afternoon so he didn't have to get up quite as early on Monday mornings to do it. I liked going with him because there's a convenience store sort of thing along the way that does its own baking so I'd get some kind of fresh pastry for breakfast. I remember one Sunday when Daddy's boss was there, too. I had climbed into one of the mail bins and was standing in it, eating an extremely sticky cinnamon bun and watching Daddy work. The bin I was standing in was empty but the ones near it weren't and Daddy's boss felt the need to inform me that tampering with the mail is a FEDERAL OFFENSE. Yes, instead of simply telling me to be careful not to get cinnamon bun frosting on any of the letters in the nearby bins, he thought it was necessary and appropriate to imply that the the FBI would be after me if I did. Ass. I was only little. He scared me! :(



15. Hospital visits

I was nine when my mother's mom went into the hospital for the last time. She'd always gotten better before but this time she wasn't. I blamed the hospital because I felt like I had to blame somebody and there was nobody else. So because I felt like the hospital owed me something for what it was taking away, every day for the three weeks Nan was there, I stole things from the gift shop. Andes mints, chocolate Neco wafers, paperback novels, stuffed animals and figurines that would fit into my pockets... I still have a lot of them. And that's how I got my copies of several Stephen King books -- Carrie, Firestarter, and The Eyes of the Dragon, I think.