May Cause Drowsiness


The Better Half had bicep tendon surgery yesterday and looks a bit like an Ironman knockoff now, with the contraption into which they fastened him and the same charming, haggard look of the post-drug Robert Downey, Jr.  Oh, but without the money.  I have been trying to be a pleasant nurse but I think he is a little scared.  The drugs alone require some focus (and my boss, the L. E., may be chuckling to herself right now): one pill every 4 hours, another every 6 hours, and a third every 8 hours.  It’s sort of like the new infant stage, only with a really, really large baby.

Not sure what's going on with her people but still very sleepy.

The best part occurred while I was talking on the phone with a clinic nurse about  my daughter’s headache (more on that later), and my other daughter locked herself in the bathroom for a bath – ours, because her brother uses the other one.  “Practice was terrible,” she explained.  The Better Half was sprawled on the bed, the son-and-heir was trolling for more crap we don’t need and suddenly the sprawler rose like Lazarus, shouldered the deck door open and threw up over the balcony.   I pictured a skunk below wondering what on earth was raining from the sky.  He missed the nice duvet and with that thoughtful gesture, the in-sickness-and-in-health part seemed doable.

From 10:30 until 12:30 I was in the Emergency Room with my daughter, whose headache was hanging on and whose eyes looked a bit glassy.   Everything takes two hours in an E-Room.  Hangnail?  Two hours?  Profuse bleeding from the head that requires a surgeon to be flown in?  Two hours.  Must say I admired the way the intake nurses let the aged homeless guy hang around; it was cold and he was benign.  The detoxing lady next to our bed didn’t do much for my daughter’s extreme anxiety but the cute, young security guard offered to get her a 7-up from the nurses’ refrigerator.  Our doctor was plastic-y and pleasant but really irritated when I declined the Percoset for my girl and briefly lectured me on letting a 13-year-old make decisions.  Love getting judged at 12:07 a.m.  I took the 7-up.

The healing is better this morning!  No deer were killed by projectile vomiting!  Headaches are gone!  Decided not to sell the meds online!  Pretty sure I am upright.  Looking forward to the Giants crushing the Dodgers.