QUOTE
God wants me dead. I pissed him off. Pissed him off good. I don't know what sent him over the edge. Maybe it was my off-colour, sacreligious sense of humour. Maybe it was the bilby I drowned in a duffel bag. Whatever it was, one thing is clear - the great skyfairy wants hardcore vengeance, and he wants it now. Let's educate you on whats happened so far. If you don't want to read, I'll summarise it for you in the next two words.
Get lost.
Wednesday 4th.
I wake up at 4:30am feeling like my kidneys hijacked bulldozers and went apemini cooper on my abdomen. I assume I am either really fluffing hungry, or constipated to the max. I stumble to the kitchen, grab a peach, take a dump, and go back to bed. I feel slightly better.
I wake up again at 6:30. Something's definitely up. My kidneys; unsatisfied with the carnage caused by bulldozers; have commandeered tanks and started burning down the Reichstag that is my middle half. I am in serious pain. In my infinite wisdom, I decide to ignore it, still thinking I might just be hungry or constipated.
It's now 10:30. Screw university, I'm not going; not while my organs are having a civil war. I drive up to the medical centre and take a seat. "There'll be a two hour wait - the doctors running late," she says. I'm in severe pain by now.
It's 11:30. Sitting up is getting unbearable. I ask to lie down on a bed somewhere, and the receptionist lady obliges. Angry geriatrics envy my special treatment. I feel powerful.
It's 12:00 or sometime, when bang. Holy mother fluffing of mini cooper. Raw, intense pain. Someone just Nagasaki'ed my bowel. A doctor comes in and watches me writhe in pain. He asks, "Are you ok?" I reply, "My stomach is on fire." He pushes on my abdomen, then my lower right abdomen. I nearly go catatonic and grip his hand. Wup-wow.
Maybe ten minutes later I'm in an ambulance with a morphine needle in my bum. Morphine is great. I remembered the old people's faces of disgust at my special treatment. It makes me smile. All is good in the world.
I rock up to hospital. A doctor comes and assesses me. He is not happy. He has a monobrow though, so I need not respect him. I get more drugs. I go to sleep.
I wake up and its night. Monobrow tells me they've called in the surgeon from dinner with her husband to do emergency surgery on my appendix which has ruptured and caused perotonitis. 10% mortality rate in healthy patients. Good, I like a challenge.
I am prepped for surgery. Nurses wheel me into the operating theatre late that night. Just before my bed enters the operating room, an attending stops me. She says they havn't done the pre-check on my details. She checks my wrist band. It says Mrs Finch, Jessica. "Mrs Finch, Jessica" has no allergies. Lucky her. I on the other hand, am deathly allergic to penicillin. Penicillin had been put on my treatment schedule. They take another ten minutes to correct things. My confidence is not great. My last words to the attending doctors is, "I'm glad someone knows what they're doing." I recognise a monobrow above one of the attending's masks. I smile. I don't even feel the anasthethic. I go to sleep.
Thursday 5th.
I wake up early in the morning. It is around 5am. I feel sleepy as mini cooper. Someone is standing above me. It takes me a few seconds to make sense of the face. It's an ex-girlfriend's mum wearing a nurses uniform. Then it hits me.
She's going to smother me with a pillow...fluff
My eyes close again and I fall back asleep. I had survived. Boy was I on a roll.
It's 9am. The operating doctor comes to see me. She says she removed widespread infection covering my entire mid section with a particularly bad infection in parts of my abdomen and kidney. Apparently, my left kidney was displaced so as to be directly adjacent to the perforation where the infection originated. Smooth move God you cunning bastard. Luckily for me, my other kidney was having a picnic up north during the whole ordeal. You're fault for giving me two you sneaky son of a pinkberry.
12 hours from death she estimates. Groovy, I feel pretty good. "That's because you have morphine in your drip." Fantastic. Bring me some pie and I will be content.
The doctor leaves. I fall asleep.
It is mid afternoon. A nurse is changing my canular. A canular is the big tube in your arm that the drip connects to. I watch her take it off and replace it with a new canular. She then leaves. I turn away and fall asleep.
Woops. She didn't put the valve on. Bad, bad girl.
You see, veins have valves. This stops blood from flowing backwards in your body. Essentially, the liquid in my drip stopped going in and blood started coming out.
A good half hour later a nurse walks in. She wakes me and runs out the room. I have a quick look around and glance my bed. It is soaked in blood. It's soaked through my clothes, through my sheets, through the mattress. Everything. My left arm is stained entirely on one side. I lift my arm and leave an arm print of white. The nurses come back. Goodbye consciousness. To sleep again I go.
---
That's as much as I'll type for now. Things to come include psycho nurses trying to kill me, falling down in the shower, a near car crash, a run in with a different ex girlfriend's mum's psycho new boyfriend, a run in with a bicyclist on meth and a bus crash.
I mini cooper you not, all of this will be explained. God wants me dead. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.
Get lost.
Wednesday 4th.
I wake up at 4:30am feeling like my kidneys hijacked bulldozers and went apemini cooper on my abdomen. I assume I am either really fluffing hungry, or constipated to the max. I stumble to the kitchen, grab a peach, take a dump, and go back to bed. I feel slightly better.
I wake up again at 6:30. Something's definitely up. My kidneys; unsatisfied with the carnage caused by bulldozers; have commandeered tanks and started burning down the Reichstag that is my middle half. I am in serious pain. In my infinite wisdom, I decide to ignore it, still thinking I might just be hungry or constipated.
It's now 10:30. Screw university, I'm not going; not while my organs are having a civil war. I drive up to the medical centre and take a seat. "There'll be a two hour wait - the doctors running late," she says. I'm in severe pain by now.
It's 11:30. Sitting up is getting unbearable. I ask to lie down on a bed somewhere, and the receptionist lady obliges. Angry geriatrics envy my special treatment. I feel powerful.
It's 12:00 or sometime, when bang. Holy mother fluffing of mini cooper. Raw, intense pain. Someone just Nagasaki'ed my bowel. A doctor comes in and watches me writhe in pain. He asks, "Are you ok?" I reply, "My stomach is on fire." He pushes on my abdomen, then my lower right abdomen. I nearly go catatonic and grip his hand. Wup-wow.
Maybe ten minutes later I'm in an ambulance with a morphine needle in my bum. Morphine is great. I remembered the old people's faces of disgust at my special treatment. It makes me smile. All is good in the world.
I rock up to hospital. A doctor comes and assesses me. He is not happy. He has a monobrow though, so I need not respect him. I get more drugs. I go to sleep.
I wake up and its night. Monobrow tells me they've called in the surgeon from dinner with her husband to do emergency surgery on my appendix which has ruptured and caused perotonitis. 10% mortality rate in healthy patients. Good, I like a challenge.
I am prepped for surgery. Nurses wheel me into the operating theatre late that night. Just before my bed enters the operating room, an attending stops me. She says they havn't done the pre-check on my details. She checks my wrist band. It says Mrs Finch, Jessica. "Mrs Finch, Jessica" has no allergies. Lucky her. I on the other hand, am deathly allergic to penicillin. Penicillin had been put on my treatment schedule. They take another ten minutes to correct things. My confidence is not great. My last words to the attending doctors is, "I'm glad someone knows what they're doing." I recognise a monobrow above one of the attending's masks. I smile. I don't even feel the anasthethic. I go to sleep.
Thursday 5th.
I wake up early in the morning. It is around 5am. I feel sleepy as mini cooper. Someone is standing above me. It takes me a few seconds to make sense of the face. It's an ex-girlfriend's mum wearing a nurses uniform. Then it hits me.
She's going to smother me with a pillow...fluff
My eyes close again and I fall back asleep. I had survived. Boy was I on a roll.
It's 9am. The operating doctor comes to see me. She says she removed widespread infection covering my entire mid section with a particularly bad infection in parts of my abdomen and kidney. Apparently, my left kidney was displaced so as to be directly adjacent to the perforation where the infection originated. Smooth move God you cunning bastard. Luckily for me, my other kidney was having a picnic up north during the whole ordeal. You're fault for giving me two you sneaky son of a pinkberry.
12 hours from death she estimates. Groovy, I feel pretty good. "That's because you have morphine in your drip." Fantastic. Bring me some pie and I will be content.
The doctor leaves. I fall asleep.
It is mid afternoon. A nurse is changing my canular. A canular is the big tube in your arm that the drip connects to. I watch her take it off and replace it with a new canular. She then leaves. I turn away and fall asleep.
Woops. She didn't put the valve on. Bad, bad girl.
You see, veins have valves. This stops blood from flowing backwards in your body. Essentially, the liquid in my drip stopped going in and blood started coming out.
A good half hour later a nurse walks in. She wakes me and runs out the room. I have a quick look around and glance my bed. It is soaked in blood. It's soaked through my clothes, through my sheets, through the mattress. Everything. My left arm is stained entirely on one side. I lift my arm and leave an arm print of white. The nurses come back. Goodbye consciousness. To sleep again I go.
---
That's as much as I'll type for now. Things to come include psycho nurses trying to kill me, falling down in the shower, a near car crash, a run in with a different ex girlfriend's mum's psycho new boyfriend, a run in with a bicyclist on meth and a bus crash.
I mini cooper you not, all of this will be explained. God wants me dead. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.
MORE ON:
http://pcpowerplay.com.au/forums/showthread.php?t=96907
)
