Oouie!

Okay! So a couple of weeks ago I had my first ambulance ride to a place I have sworn I would never go, the hospital. First of all, they smell funny, and there is something that lurks there that I just detest....germs. Yep they are everywhere. Being a little OCD, the last place I ever want to even walk into is a hospital. I won't touch anything, and please "Do not step into my personal space", because you probably have something I just don't want. Whether it's germs from another patient, or one of those long, metal, pointed things that they always insist on putting into your veins, there is absolutely nothing good here. That has always been my thinking and it hasn't changed ...much.

By the time I arrived I had lost two units of blood at least and knew bad things were coming when the ER Doctor said, Susan you have internal bleeding and ..... And, I said, what? "You are going to need a blood transfusion" and then he said something about scopes. Scopes plural? like more than one, I questioned! Mmmm, yes, the young doctor replied. Well it was time for a little intimidation on my part. This just couldn't be happening and I was going to have to ward him and all of his germ infested equipment away. So I sat back and gave him the look. I must have seemed ridiculous because by now I was on the verge of passing out and I am using every technique I know to keep this guy away from me. Let's see, first, I'll just pull out everything I know from the "Power of Positive Thinking." It always works for me. As I lay channeling the great Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, I knew it would work. It always works! So I am not bleeding and I am fine, and this is all going to be okay, I kept repeating in my head (I couldn't say it out loud as I didn't want them to think I was crazy too).

An IV tech nurse entered the cramped cubbie they call an ER room and said straighten out your arm and make a fist. As I did it my thoughts were to make contact with my fist against her face to keep her away, but no instead, the long, sharp, invasive needle slipped slowly into my vein. By now I had cowered low into the bed and covered my eyes. I couldn't resist and separated my fingers for a quick peek at the needle and the blood flowing from my vein into an elongated glass tube. Oh God, I thought, Dr. Peale where are you? I need to think harder.

Okay so that's not working....The Secret...Yes, The Secret. I had practiced it.....got parking spots where I needed them. It worked too. So, okay, just manifest the bleeding to stop NOW!

The nurse kept working, taking more tubes of blood and adding them into her personal stash! I need that blood. Isn't one tube sufficient?

Meanwhile, I'm telling myself : stop bleeding, stop bleeding, stop bleeding! I didn't stop. The nurse left with my blood, the doctor left, too, and my family was left to deal with a crazy woman scared to death (well almost). The secret hadn't worked, so I was saving the big one till last.

OH GOD, I said please make me stop bleeding. Please! If I keep bleeding they are going to stick me with more infested objects and then stick things in holes that just frankly, God, you didn't mean for those to have anything inserted into them. God must have been having an incredibly busy day, or he was just wanting to mess with me, because, I kept bleeding.

After a few minutes, the decision is announced to me that I get to spend a little time with my new Nemesis it this awful place. The transporter will be right in they said, to take you to your room. What the hell is a transporter. Come on! The image of the transporter in my mind was not even a notch above the grim reaper. I fully expected a craggy old man dressed in black from head to toe shrouded in a long black overcoat and a crumpled hat. To my surprise a young, fresh faced student came to push me deep into the dark boughs of this huge impending building. The hallways were long and narrow and brightly lit (where are my Pradas to shield my sensitive eyes) and my transporter kept banging me into walls and missing doors. Ouch, I already feel like HELL! Finally I arrive in my room, where yep, the blood entourage enters to do their transfusion ritual. Now if you've never received blood, it's almost like watching a poorly choreographed group of young dancers trying to hit their beat.

There are three (THREE) people to perform this ritual. They take the bags of blood out and make sure they are the right temperature, they read the type (A positive). Yes all three agree it's Type A thank God. They scan the bar code to triple check that it is still A positive. And then they scan me to make sure I haven't gone into the witness protection plan since I got here and that I'm still me. Check! That's all good the nurse said. Now tell us your name and birth date. "You've got to be kidding. You just scanned me. My name is right there! It's still me!" Check, Check Triple Check. All three nurses stood around my bed and finally decided it was me and I could have the blood.

Time to hang the bag and start the drip. I looked up and saw the crimson, rich looking red fluid start to enter my vein and was shocked at the feeling of the icy cold invasion into my body. All I could think is that this must be the true meaning of ice princess. (Oh, I didn't mention I'm a princess? Well in my own mind!)

If you didn't know it takes a long time for a unit of blood to drip 2 - 4 hours...mine took 4 of course and then there was another one waiting to go into my body with the same ritual beginning again.

By 5 am I was feeling pretty good...I had blood again and now it was time to get the scope(s). A young blond female doctor walked into my room to let me know she was going to be doing one of the scopes. I wasn't feeling warm or fuzzy at this point. In my opinion, she was much too pretty and well dressed to have done well in medical school. But she was blond, really blond, so she had to have something going for her. I met her downstairs deeper in the dark recesses of this building, again delivered by the transporter and as they pumped me up with anesthesia, I have to tell you, I felt pretty good. Yeah, well this isn't so bad after all, I thought. When I woke up I was delivered once again by the transporter, I looked around my room, and they told me I was going to be fine. I believed them for a minute until I thought about all of the germs, strange "used" tubes going down my throat, and someone else's blood now pulsing through my veins with God knows what diseases.

So what is so fabulous about all of this? A few days have gone by, I'm home with the help of the transporter getting me from the room to the front door where my carriage awaited me. I'm not bleeding anymore. That alone is fabulous. I feel great and the big bonus... I've lost 10 pounds. How fabulous is that? Or am I wasting away because I caught a dreaded disease from bad blood. Nah! I'm going to make it and I think that is fabulous!