Vertigo




No, my life hasn't turned into a Hitchcock film (yet). Remember that beer stein to the head from the previous post? Well, my hangover from hell never disappeared this week, and I got woozier and woozier, and finally the vertigo was so bad last night that I called up my dad and made him take me to the emergency room. I figured the blow-to-the-head-with-a-blunt-object and I-can-see-the-world-spinning might be related.



The last time I'd been to the emergency room was when I took a certain Ms. E in when she cracked her elbow. The last time I'd been to the emergency room for myself was when I cracked my elbow on a certain junkyard found object in a certain someone-and-someone-else's dorm room in a certain C-ton, Ga. That was my freshman year of college, and my second trip to the emergency room that year (and ever), although there was no way I could compete for most-trips-to-the-emergency-room with all the other drama queens out-dramaing me all over the place.




Anyway, I go to the emergency room. I retell the beer-stein-to-the-head story to about 5 different people before being placed in my very own exam room, which is bigger and nicer than any other exam room I'd ever seen in my various visits to the emergency room. This is my first inkling that head trauma patients get slightly better treatment than the rest of the masses.




I wait a while for my doctor, filling out my intake forms and trying not to fall over. When the doctor finally enters the room, I nearly do fall over, for it is not the old, worn-out ER doctor I was expecting, but a young, energetic McDoc. (He looked like Noah Wylie and T.R. Knight's love child.)



I was a little embarrassed having to explain my how-I-got-injured story to him, but thankfully he had a sense of humor and gave me a little good-natured hell about it. Not only was he a McDoc, he was a witty McDoc. When he was peering in my ears, trying to determine if I'd done something to my ear drums (he didn't see anything), I was trying to figure out how one picked up their ER doctor. I mean, you hear these stories all the time, right? Patients and doctors falling madly in love, meeting over broken legs and ruptured appendicts. It even happened to Doctor Jack on Lost. But what I don't get is how does it happen?? Who asks who out? Clearly the doctor can't, since it would be unprofessional and all, so I guess it's up to the patient? But doesn't the patient feel like shit, and probably look like shit, and wouldn't it be kind of creepy to ask your doctor out anyway?



I wondered about this further after McDoc left the room, and came to the conclusion that there was no way to ask McDoc out, and besides, McDocs spend all there time working and I'm a demanding bitch who needs lots and lots of attention, so it would probably never work anyway.



Oh, you probably want to know how I'm doing. Well, there was a CAT scan, and it looked fine, so no internal bleeding or anything. I have a post-concussion something or other, which basically means I was hit in the head, I feel bad, and I will feel better eventually. I was also prescribed anti-vertigo meds, which are essentially prescription-strength Dramamine. I'm not able to drive until I go see my primary care doctor tomorrow and he clears me for it...but since I'm still dizzy, I have a feeling he won't.



So that's my little drama of the week. Good times, good times. Ok, not really.

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