Things started to go wrong when the blonde-haired battleax admitting nurse at the hospital today tried to grab me by the left forearm to direct me to the Emergency Admitting (which I'd bypassed yesterday, apparently erroneously). She took offense when I recoiled and said "please don't touch me," but aside from the fact that I don't actually care for being touched by strangers without having solicited it, I was there for IV antibiotics, and it happens that she nearly took me by where the IV shunt was taped into my skin. Please don't touch me indeed!
Phase two of the fuckup occurred when the nurse hooking me up to the IV - a different nurse, less grumpy in manner - decided that yesterday's shunt was too red and swollen, and decided to hook me up in my right arm instead. I made the mistake of watching the procedure, figuring after two days this was old hat. But when she figured out that today was actually my last day of IV antibiotics, she changed her mind, removed the new needle, and went with the old one after all.
Watching a bloody needle coming out of my skin is, for me, a bad idea. I nearly passed out. I had to get them to recline the chair so I could close my eyes and breathe deeply for fifteen or twenty minutes. The feeling like you're about to faint is a pretty awful one, actually, one I'd just as soon never experience again. For a minute or two, I thought I might vomit AND pass out, and silently asphyxiate while the nurses walked this way and that, tending to other patients...
Even more irritating for me, I told her specifically that I did not care for unnecessary tape attached to my arm, so please don't use any. "I really don't enjoy ripping out my arm hairs, my skin is sensitive and I don't need a bikini wax on my lower arms." As soon as she got the needle out, though, she stuck tape and gauze on it without a thought. It was actually kind of tempting to scream, "WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING ASK YOU? HELLO? ARE YOU RECEIVING?" But I restrained myself.
At least I was able to stop the next guy from taping up the hole in my left arm, when we were all through, though there was plenty of tape there to rip off already.
Things were made a bit more interesting by a local figure on the punk scene checking in to the ward on family matters - someone I've interviewed, but never run into in public. But I gave him space.
But the frustrations weren't over: waiting in line at London Drugs to fill a new scrip; waiting for a taxi outside in the rain; trying with difficulty, once I got home, to lower myself into the bath and then get out of it again... mopping up the water I got all over the bathroom floor... it all kinda came to a head when the cat wouldn't stop demanding attention while I sat down to what I hope is a final edit of an article I'm doing. I don't mind him sitting on my lap, but he likes to dig his claws into my flesh, which I can't seem to teach him not to do, and he kept getting in the way of my typing. After numerous attempts to nudge him into a non-irritating position, I lost my temper at him, kinda shoved him off me, and then felt really guilty, because, obviously, he didn't understand. He sits like this with me often when I write.
Somehow, trying to say I was sorry to the cat brought out a flood of tears, and I sat on the couch crying for a bit. I'm not sure the cat really understood that either, though.
Anyhow, he's fine, now, sitting on the side of my lap as I type. I feel a bit better too. Hopefully he doesn't barf on me - I just watched him swallowing a giant dust bunny of his own hair.
By the by, it's my 48th birthday. It's also the one year anniversary of Todd Serious' death. I'll try to post a clip of the Rebel Spell from their second to last Vancouver show when I get back to Maple Ridge later tonight... Thanks to all the sweet people wishin' me well over on Facebook, it's helped with what's been a kind of crappy day, otherwise...