Part Two in Baddies

So, thanks for not being all judgey and stuff. Yall really proved that I do have some great people on here to read and that read me, so thanks for that. It’s nice to be proven right once in a while. :)

So anyway, after my Mom got there, I was acting almost normal again. Well, at least I was able to talk to people and understand that for the past few hours I had been “out of sorts” if you wanna call it that. In that time, I had been kind of aware of things happening around me, but then again, not, if that makes any sense. But I did know that they came into the room every now and again and called to attention the fact that I was flashing the whole damn ER because I was flopping around on the bed. When my Mom got there, I was really out of it, and just felt really sleepy. It felt like I had a hangover or something. At that point, when there was a nurse or doc in the room, I mentioned that it must be from what they had given me in the ambulance and they said that they hadn’t given me anything in the ambulance! I was like huuuh? I call bullshit on that. I know eventually I will get a bill, and I can’t wait to see if I am billed for meds while in route as well. I know I was out of it, but I also know I was not crazy on top of it all. LOL. So, eventually, they came in and said they were going to admit me, for steroids at the very least, and because they wanted to keep an eye on me. At this point, I was becoming aware of the mayhem I must be causing at my home with my wife, and I was trying my hardest to call and let her know I was OK. Problem was, my cell phone was dead. I had a charger, but it would not reach the plug in the wall. This seemed to pose a gigantic problem to my poor senses, and I spent a good deal of time trying to figure this out, while my Mom fought with me to just use her cell. LOL. Eventually I did get ahold of Laura, and we talked for a minute before they came to take me up to my room. I don’t remember much around this time. I could have ridden on a flying carpet up there for all I know. LOL. So, we get up to the room, and the mayhem continues. My cell is still in need of being charged, and the finale of American Idol, that me and my Mom have been faithfully watching this season since it is the last one, is now coming on as well. So she turns that on, and I get to work on trying to charge my cell. No problem, right? Yea, wrong. First, I tried to plug the charger into my hairbrush. Then, I took out my diabetes testing kit bag and dug around in that for 30 minutes, while apparently dancing around to Kelly Clarkson on American Idol. My Mom was busy filming me on her cellphone without my permission. I have since deleted said video. So not cool. Then, after it seemed like I would fiiiinally get it right, I had my cell in my hand, walking toward the charger/plug, aaaand I sit down on the bed and start to look at the phone like I am gonna get on it. LOL. I was just sooo annoying, even to myself! My Mom finally got tired of me and left. Ha.

The next day, I was feeling really bad. My wife was not speaking to me. I was not talking to her, because she only wanted to text, and I only wanted to talk on the phone, so we just didn’t talk. I had lied to her about when I last took Adderrall. She said she would not have been so worried at how I was acting had she known I had some in my system. I was mad at her because even if she did think I had overdosed on it, does that mean she should be OK to treat me as badly as she was while I was in the hospital with a relapse? I developed dropfoot in my right leg. That’s where you lose the ability to bend your foot at the ankle, so it just kinda hangs or drags there. They did a brain MRI and it was fine, but the spinal CT showed a few lesions, and that’s probably what was causing the pain and drop foot. So, in all likelihood, I caused a relapse. Me and Laura are OK now, even tho at first I was not going to be coming home when I left the hospital. She messaged me and said she missed me and asked when I was coming home, and we finally talked about it on the phone. I am still not sure quite how I feel about it. How I was treated, how she still continues to treat me, laughing at things I don’t find all that funny really. The bruises I had all over me from being held down by the staff, for instance. Just things like that. There is no way I ever wanted her to see that video, and I could kill my Mom now for ever taking it. Sure, it may have been funny at the time, and I have to admit, I was laughing at myself when I would realize what I was doing, but I was scared too. It was a humiliating experience. I don’t want to be reminded of it, I only want to forget it ever happened and move on with my fucking life. A friend told me tonite that she can’t tell things bother me. Like, that the past affects my present, that I hide it well. That actually makes me really sad. Like, do I put on that much of a show? And should I? Is that kind of shit healthy? I already know the answer. I have no fucking clue what to do about it, but whatever. LOL. So, there ya have it. My most fucked up hospital stay, ever. Steph, OUT. Love you beautiful people....

Last updated April 13, 2016