there's not even a wire

I slept downstairs last night. Supposedly that's a pretty big step for me, but I was just too hot upstairs (in the guest room/my invalid room) and I missed Goggy (the name isn't sticking quite so well as I'd hoped -- I still call her the other name in my head), so I went downstairs. While there, I had a great idea! Unfortunately, I'm fairly sure I've never had an original idea in my life, so I know someone else has thought of this, but here it is: You know how "bed" actually looks like a bed? I was thinking that we should manufacture beds that look like that! The b and d would look the same on both side but the e would have to switch directions. It wouldn't be too hard. And they'd probably be popular.

So that was my idea.

I also want to tell the story of my trip down to the hospital on Friday, and why I now feel like I can just go sleep downstairs.

I went to get my drain removed. JP? That's what they called it this time, though I'm not familiar with the terminology. Basically, it's a tube in my leg that siphons out the excess fluid. It was really long and cumbersome, so it's always nice to get it out.

So, the doctor asks me how I'm doing. I said, "Fine, except every time I change positions my nerves shoot up my leg." Apparently that wasn't normal! I said, "Oh. Great."

They sat me in the chair and the PA got all ready to pull the drain out (they just pull it! It's firm in my leg and they just pull it right out!) All of a sudden the doctor asked me, "What did you have for breakfast?"

"What?"

"What did you have for breakfast? Toast, bagel?"

"Oh, you're trying to distract me! I had a muffin." Right then I felt the pull begin, but tried to concentrate on my conversation.

"A muffin? What kind?"

"Um, blueberry. I didn't like it very much. And for lunch I had -- HOLY COW MY FOOT'S GOING CRAZY!!!"* And I burst into tears.

Rosalie, the PA, gathered up the drain and apologized profusely. Dr. Jones came over and patted my shoulder.

Still crying, I insisted, "I'm fine! Really, I'm over it, it just hurt a lot with the nerves. I'll stop crying any minute." Rosalie handed me some tissues, still apologizing. "Really, it's okay," I said. "Remember last time, when it was like three feet long?"

"Oh yeah!" she said. "You always make me hurt people!" she accused the doctor.

My foot was only slightly tingling now, so I got up and ... smiled? Probably. I like to smile a lot. My mom and I thanked the doctor and Rosalie and made our way out. But before we left, Dr. Jones stopped us to talk about the recent political developments. Pretty sure we're his favorite patients because we agree with him.

Two days later, my foot is still slightly numb, but I assume that will pass once my sciatic nerve has recovered from having the drain so near unto it. Now that my drain is no longer irritating it, though, it's like I'm magically almost better. I kept forgetting to use my walker yesterday (right now I don't even know where it is) and that silly nerve thing that was going on has stopped!

The End.

I think this story is much better if I tell it in person, because I can use gestures: "She pulled it...the nerves tingled like this..."

*I can't actually remember what I said here, nor can I exactly remember the pain. I think my brain blocked it out because of its wrongness...it gives me weird feelings to think about it.

I just wanted to tell that story because it makes me look cool for having a numb foot.


"Transcontinental, 1:30 a.m." ~ Vienna Teng