Psh. She’s only braver than me because she’s in shock. So what if she’s 5?

It appears that I don’t cope entirely well with hospital visits.

To be fair, I haven’t really had any practice, I’ve never really been sick in my life beyond the odd headcold.
I’ve never had to stay overnight in hospital – not even when I fell through the glass door and needed surgery to repair the nerves and tendons in my wrist – they sent me home after I woke up and I didn’t even get to see what a shitty hospital dinner tastes like!

On Monday, my Doctor gave me the flu vaccination because apparently people like me – those incubating another human inside them – are one of the three groups most highly recommended to have them, and I figured that since he’s been to medical school and I haven’t, it would be best to listen to his advice.

Approximately four hours later, I began to regret that decision when The Worst Cold Plus Other Things started happening to me.

My chest became tight, but I ignored it because over the past few months, a giant ball of baby has begun to sprout from my midsection, and I’ve found that occasionally, this causes all my breathybits to get squished.

I stood up to relieve the pressure but it didn’t really help, and before I had the chance to sit back down, my head began to pound like the drums of Moria after Pippin dropped the stone in the well – this was also something I ignored because Did You Know, hormones create headaches?

As I began to loudly vocalise these problems to my coworkers, my throat started aching – a deep, broken bone kind of ache – not even the “I’m getting sick” ache! It was weird, and so I vocalised this observation too.

“Apparently it’s pretty normal to feel like you’re getting a cold”, reassured one of my co-workers who had just paid a visit to Dr. Google.
“I don’t think your tongue is meant to start stinging though, right?” I replied, trying to get a look at it.

Around 40 minutes had passed since the initial tight chest and now, along with the headache, sore throat, stinging tongue (and lips), every joint in my body had its own little headache and I wanted to cry, and/or die – whichever came first.

I decided to call my dad to pick me up. I needed groceries to make scrambled eggs for dinner because my lifelove had had his wisdom tooth removed around the same time I was getting stabbed with THIS POISON THAT WAS NOW RUINING MY LIFE!

A few short minutes later, I had all my ingredients and climbed back into dad’s car, where I decided it might be time to phone the medical centre again because I was pretty sure I was about to vomit, and shouldn’t really be shivering like this.

They wanted me to come in – the stinging mouth was slightly concerning.

Check-ups were made and consultations with the Bible of Vaccinations were undertaken and it was determined that I wasn’t having an allergic reaction, but a “documented, but rare reaction”.  This is fairly common practice for my family. We don’t do medication normally.

Doc determined that I would feel better if I went over to the Emergency Department to get some IV fluids into me.

By now my fingertips were going slightly blue and I was shivering more than a medieval bride waiting for her gross old husband to make a woman out of her.

I wasn’t allowed to move my wrist, because my veins are almost non-existent and we were forced to IV me right there where my hand comes off my arm – that part of you that you don’t realise you move a lot until you’re no longer allowed to. In fact, were you aware that you bend your wrist approximately INFINITY TIMES A SECOND?

I really needed to move that wrist – I wanted to be on my side. Preferably watching television on my own lounge and for these pain feelings to not be in me. Life was so unfuckingfair.

I looked at the clock with big, hope-filled eyes. Ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes out of the approximate two hours that I would be required to spend there. Fuck a thousand ducks.

I moaned my complaints to my visitors – my ever patient and loving mother – who advised me that I’d already had some miniscule hundred mls of the fluids and only had ONE MILLION MORE to go.
My back hurt. My bones hurt. Even the air that touched my face hurt.
My other visitor – my lifelove with his recently removed wisdom tooth – patted me sympathetically, smiling through the swelling of his face.

Then the emergency ward began to buzz with life as a little girl was brought in – a suspected broken elbow due to a fall from a trampoline.
Apparently it was a bad one. She needed immediate surgery and she was so brave, she was barely making a sound!

That’s because she’s lucky enough to be in shock!

Really, you should worry about me, my body not even protecting me from my own incredible pain.

Plus, the morphine you gave her probably helped! I only got Panadol – and it was in tablet form – tablets I had to sit up to take when I couldn’t even bend my wrist. I had to wriggle my way upright with one hand and then get my mother to hold the cup of water while I popped the tablet in my mouth. Then we had to swap again so I could pick up the SECOND tablet!

My brow definitely needed mopping after that ordeal.

Two and a half hours later, my IV bag emptied of its precious life-saving fluids, I was allowed to go home.

“See you again in a few months” said the Emergency Department Dude, nodding at my bellybump as I held the plaster over the gaping wound that had been gouged into my arm by the needle.

Thankfully I have shown that I bear the burden of pain stoically.