Why I Won't Be Calling Dibs On The Bath Tub, Anytime Soon!
Don't Break My Heart...My Icky, Sticky Heart...

They Say Humor Helps Your Heart, Mine Is Cry-Laughing!

It's been a week since I've been home from the hospital and, well, did you know that laughter lowers blood pressure? Good thing, too -- now that high blood pressure and I have a history, dammit.

Me and Hope Trying to Ignore the Needle in My Arm!
She fainted while visiting her grandfather in the hospital a few years ago, so we've never been allowed to even mention the word and refer to it as "The place where really sick people go".

Long story short (you're welcome!): I haven't been feeling very well for quite a while and waited until "Holy crap!" and "MY CHEST HURTS!" oh, and by the way "I CAN'T BREATH!" before getting myself some serious medical attention.

"Your blood pressure is 193 over 112!"

Because of my family history, I am very vigilant about getting a yearly physical and I've never had a history with high blood pressure, until now.

"And it's not going down, so we're going to have to admit you!"

[one beat, two beats]

"That's...[huff]...what...[puff]...she...[huff]...said!"

I don't remember much after my inner-twelve-year-old showed up, but my oldest daughter filled me in later:

  • I apologized to the nurse dude, while the poor guy tried to remove my shapeware-type camisole (because, OF COURSE!) and my industrial-strength bra (because, midlife girls need serious support, yo!)
  • He then removed my flats and I apologized for not freshening up my pedicure from 3 months ago
  • I apologized to the other nurse attempting to insert a port into my arm -- prematurely, since I did not end up biting her, I think
  • I apologized to the guy (or woman!) in the emergency bay next to me, because I pass gas when I get nervous...okay, fiiiiiiiiine...I fart, like a boss
  • I apologized to the nurse dude...and to anyone and everyone...FOR EVERYTHING...just in case I pass out...or something

Even longer story, short (seriously, you owe me a thank you note!): The next couple of days were scary...as all get out...and, well, let's just say I'm bruised from head to toe with all of the prodding...and the poking...HOWEVER...I'm not afraid of needles, any longer...okay, not as much...fiiiiiiiiine...my stomach still hurts!

"And then she kept apologizing for wearing her industrial-strength bra!!!!"

Because teenagers love embarrassing their parents, I think it's called payback.

"It's probably why she couldn't breath!"

And those were perhaps the BEST five minutes spent...just sitting around the kitchen table with my kids and Garth (not his real name)...cry-laughing...yeah, life was good.

Until!

"Well, now that we're all together, we have something to tell you and Daddy!"

My husband and I looked around the table and opted for the "shut up and listen" parenting strategy.

"We ALL pooled our money and rented you guys a studio apartment in Cape Cod to spend your 25th anniversary in August!"

To say that both our eyes went REAL WIDE would be an understatement AND THEN our middle girl (i.e. the spokeskid) looked me dead in the face.

"Sooooo, now YOU have something to look forward to!"

[one beat, two beats]

Garth (to me): "In other words...we can't get our deposit back...DON'T DIE!"

I gained back close to two years, that day!

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