How can I even begin to describe what an incredible week this has been? Let's begin with, as most of my interesting stories go, a man ... a man whom I felt I needed to be with and the stars aligned to allow me the opportunity ... a man who lives in, of all places cursed on this planet, Fresno, California ... but it was my birthday weekend after all and that being the case, I can do whatever the fuck I want to do ... and so I did ... I drove 2 hours and 45 minutes to Fresno ...
But let's not focus on the relationship with the man ... I only mention it to create a setting ... a reason for my being in that God-forsaken hell-hole ...
So bear in mind that this is a first date and we decide to go kayaking on Lake Millerman? Middleton? Mulligan? Hell ... just can't get past that mental block. Well, whatever ... that body of water they call a reservoir. So paddled for about a mile or so. Then we beached ourselves for a bit, to talk, to snack, to gaze, and then prepared to head back. He'd already launched and I was turning my boat around to self-launch when the first thought that sprang to mind was, "What the hell? Those are some hellacious thorns!" Within the next millisecond this little bastard comes slithering out from underneath my foot and dashes off faster than a 15-year-old boy after hearing, "I'm pregnant," from that one night stand he had at that frat party he crashed.
So what do I do? Well, I screamed like a little bitch ... what else? And yes, in spite of all my bravado, I fessed to him that I was scared ... not of dying necessarily ... but of dying in Fresno ... in such an incongruous manner ... my life is supposed to end in a blaze of glory ... and not only that, this was our first date ... and dying would definitely guarantee there would be no second, which would just suck!
So the man and I make a judgement call to paddle back to the launch site where we knew there'd be help ... and sure enough there was help in the form of the park ranger, two lifeguards, one on each arm taking vitals, and 2 EMTs ... all under 35 ... all rather cute ... my foot's on fire, and all I can think of is that here I was, in cougar heaven ...
Sometimes it's really good to know my warped sense of humor remains intact even in the most dire of circumstances, but hey! How often does an over-50 phoenix become the focus of attention of five adorable young play things ... ok ... ok ... ok ... I did not plan this, but it definitely couldn't have worked out better ...
Ambulance takes me to the ER, and the EMT and I have an interesting conversation. I'm giving her the information she asks for, and then she shows me various images of reptiles, and lo and behold ... there's the tell-tale diamond-shaped head of a rattlesnake ... identical to the one sported by that little fucker who dared sink his little fangs in my toes.
So the ED doc says an ICU admit is necessary and they don't know for how long, but management of my care has now fallen into the realm of ... tan ... tan ... taaaannnnnn ... Poison Control ... and they say I need anti venom STAT and constant monitoring of blood and vitals until they deem me suitable to leave ... sigh ... the prospects of that second date are disappearing fast over the horizon ...
My foot, by the way, has now taken on the appearance of a gorgon ... or maybe an inflated balloon with five fat nubs sticking out of the top, those nubs being my toes. On top of that, my entire face has started to tingle, and all I can think to ask is, "Is one side of my face drooping?" and hope to G'd I wasn't slurring or drooling because that's all I needed, right? To stroke out? Definitely hot!! But thankfully no, said the RN, that's a common side effect. Sadly, it was the same sensation I get after a couple fingers of scotch, but I didn't have that warm fuzzy feeling I always get from a couple fingers of scotch ... of course not .... because I didn't have any scotch ...
Let me tell you about the ICU ... I'm definitely not the ideal patient for this setting. And why? Because I was mobile, I talked, I ate, and if I wasn't laughing at the absurdity of this whole situation, I was complaining about the food. I'm sure they prefer their patients unconscious, intubated and vented. I think what bugged them the most were the multiple times I had to ask them to disconnect me from the monitors so I could get up to pee. And I insisted on getting up because I was not about to overflow yet another bedpan!!! After being flushed earlier with two bags of normal saline ... well ... where did you think all that was going to go? And what did you think would happen if I'm given a bedpan the size of a teacup??? Fortunately my mobility made it easy for the nurse to change all my bed clothes as well as wash me down and put me in a new hospital gown because I was literally soaking in my own personal little flood zone ...
Naturally, the food folks were ill prepared to actually feed anyone in the ICU ... I could chew after all ... so they sent me something they called turkey covered with this yellow mire they insisted was gravy ... all of which was an insult to my paleo-accustomed digestive system, which then proceeded to rebel exactly six hours later. So the nurse asks me, "Formed or unformed?" I should have lied because my response generated the dreaded "Well, you're going to be put into isolation." WHAT???? But it was that fucking gravy! There's no C diff going on over here ... IT WAS THE GRAVY!!!! One just shouldn't argue with the night nurse ...
So the first night passed with me hooked up to a blood pressure monitor that took my BP every hour on the hour ...every ... hour ... on the ... hour. Sleep just wasn't going to happen ... definitely not with the added perks of 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. blood draws ... now I know why folks get sick in the hospital ... you're not there to rest; you're there to suffer the indignities of a breezy hospital gown, needles shoved through whatever vein looks juicy enough to milk, suffer intestinal disturbances from bad food ... I also believe the lucky ones go there to die ... or simply remain in a coma until it's time to be discharged ...
But throughout all this, there is a silver lining ... several silver linings, in fact. I was reminded that I am blessed with great friends who sent me lots of love and well wishes. I actually saw the results of years of swimming and clean eating in the shape of a 48 bpm average heart rate and 110/60 blood pressure. I learned that I can maintain a great attitude even through circumstances that would have put others in an unending state of panic. I am resilient! I laughed more in the two days as an inpatient than I had in a long time. Laughter is truly the best medicine. The nurses came in on Tuesday morning to sing Happy Birthday to me. The man saw me in all my glory whilst in a hospital gown, sporting a massive tangle of hair, unwashed and he still came to visit ... with a Carl's Jr. burger even ... it could only get better from there, right? The man also proved to be gentle, caring, strong and protective, brave and clear-headed in an emergency, and sweet and tender ... sigh ...
I'm home now, none worse for the wear. I'm happy to be with my sons and enjoying their hugs and kisses. I'm ecstatic to be sleeping in my own bed, attached only to my body pillow. My primary physician proclaimed me fit as a fiddle. I'm back in the pool and back in my boat, although my reflexes aren't as quick, my ankle doesn't rotate fully, and the top of my foot is still tender ... but time will fix these minor quirks and all should return to normal soon. I've got Nationals next weekend and I've changed my focus to be on just cheering for my team mates, lauding their successes and enjoying their company. (Go, Creek!) After being out of the water for five days, two of which were spent in bed, I'm not expecting to post any stellar times, which is actually okay -- the stellar times will just happen at the World Games in Montreal.
And I now have a nickname ... guess? Snakebite ... not my idea, but I kind of like it ... it's kind of cool and edgy ... and I like cool and edgy. I'm also going to have a rattlesnake tattoo inked on my foot, with the fangs right by those toes.
All in all, this is the most memorable birthday I've ever had, and to be honest I don't think I'd trade these memories for anything in the world. The good that came out of the past week far outweighed the bad. But don't get me wrong, I don't intend on getting bitten by a rattlesnake again ... once was enough, although I am definitely going to play the "I got bitten by a rattlesnake" card for quite a while.
Still ... I am really hoping for that second date ...
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