Through My Blue Eyes

My Dramatic Story
Part Two

I lay down in the back seat of our mini-van as my mother drove me to the St. Francis hospital. I had everything I needed - a pillow, blanket, and a nice, big puke bucket. Regardless, I was still miserable. The ibuprofen had certainly not kicked in...I wasn't sure if it ever would.

We finally pulled into the emergency entrance of the hospital. I threw up just as we were parking. My mom helped me out and put the bucket under our vehicle.
We went to the front desk. The receptionist asked what had happened. My mom explained the horse .

"We'll get her in next." The receptionist handed me a small bucket when I asked for one. "Now, would you sit down?"

I made my way over to a chair in the waiting room. All around me were people, probably suffering as well. My mom's cell phone rang and obeying the hospital policies, went outside to take the call.

"Charity Blackwood!" someone called a couple minutes later.

I went outside to get my mom. She came back in with me, but when we got back, we couldn't find the lady who had called my name! A couple seconds later, she emerged from the double doors.

"Come on!" The lady was apparently very impatient.

We walked in and sat down in a small room. I was groaning a bit and holding my head and the hospital bucket. My mom and I heard my dad's voice in the waiting room.

"We're in here!" My mom said.

My dad walked in. He looked at me. "I'm so sorry, honey." He rubbed my head a bit.

A man walked in and sat in the spinney-chair beside me. He, of course, asked what happened, directing his questions at me. I was still miserable, but was able to answer a few questions.

"I know this is a awkward question to ask in front of your mother, but do you drink? No? Well, do you smoke?" These were some of his more strange questions. "Have you had any suicidal or homicidal thoughts?" This was getting ridicules! "Sorry, I gotta ask," he apologized.

As the man left, a nurse took his place. She asked a few more questions, this time directing them at my parents more than me. My mom explained that my brother had checked my eyes and thought one pupil was larger than the other. She checked them as well, with a light.

"Your son was right."

I started throwing up again. Another lady brought in a wheelchair for me and told me to get in it as soon as I could. The second I stopped vomiting, she directed me to get in and wheeled my down the hall to another room with a bed. Several more doctors and nurses came in after I was lying on the bed and asked a lot of questions that had been asked before.

'Do these people never tell each other anything?' I thought to myself. I was also thinking about how badly my head hurt, how I wished I would stop throwing up, and how horrible I must look and smell. I was given a little hospital shirt to put on. I had my bathing suit on under my tank top and sweat pants because I had been at P.E. earlier that morning.

My mom rubbed my head while my dad tried to make me laugh. Neither of which physically helped, but probably helped me emotionally.

I wished I could go to sleep...but I couldn't. The pain was too bad.

A pretty, blon'de doctor came in and explained what was to happen. I was to be given an IV with some medicine to stop the nausea. Then, I would be taken to get a CAT scan, just to make sure there was no swelling or anything. We were there for a long time before they finally came in to put the IV in.

My veins were small, she said, but didn't want to have to poke me again. She dug around with the needle. I winced and a few tears escaped because of the pain on top of my horrible headache. But I was thankful that the medicine, I hoped, would soon stop the vomiting. I just wanted to get the CAT scan over and go home and to my own bed...or the bathroom floor.

The IV didn't seem to help. I threw up a couple more times before they wheeled me to the room for the CAT scan. I got out of the bed, shakily, and lay down on the machine. But, before they could do the CAT scan, I had to throw up again. I lay back down and felt my body move up into the machine. I think I must have fallen asleep, because it didn't seem long at all before my mom and the doctor came back into the room to get me. I was wheeled back to a room and got to lie down once again.

I threw up a couple more times and at least an hour went by before they came back with the CAT scan results.

Contrary to my dad's belief, I had a big, beautiful, healthy brain, according to the blon'de doctor. They gave me some more medicine in my IV and a pain-killer pill. A little while later, a nurse who I hadn't seen before came in, took of my IV (more like ripped it off...I really winced that time), and said I could go HOME!

That was my experience of a life time...but definitely an unpleasant one at that!

THE END