Growing up I remember my grandma always telling me to wear clean undies, I never knew when I'd get in a car accident... or something like that. No one ever told me to wear matching socks because I never knew when I'd land in the ER though.
(A continuation of the Pop Goes My Lung story)
I was about 5 minutes out from my parents house when I answered my doctor's phone call. For some reason it didn't really sink in that I had been functioning all day with a hole in my lung, and it still didn't. I calmly pulled up into their driveway and waved at mom as I got out of the car. I chuckled and said "well, I need to go to the ER, I figured you would want to take me?"
It was about that point she started crying, and I started to get cold sweats and light-headed. Once I recovered from nearly fainting, she hurried me into her Trailblazer and off we went. Nearly passing out once more at the reception desk of the ER left quite the impression, and I was promptly put in a wheelchair and taken back and graced with a hospital gown and a whole slew of wires for an EKG.
That whole night was a blur. Test after test, three attempts to insert an IV, my brother, dad and LT all coming to the ER, and finally... after many hours but yet so suddenly, it was time for surgery. A few pumps of loopy medicine later I had a new adornment, a chest tube and a water seal. A steady hum came as the machine gently sucked the air out of the cavity surrounding my lung, allowing it room to reinflate on it's own.
Somehow I went from spending the day driving myself around, working, swinging by McDonalds for french fries upon leaving the doctors office.... to not being able to move enough to even feed myself. Bring on the pain meds.
(Let's all take a moment to pause and appreciate the hilarity of LT feeding me like a baby)
Sadly, I wasn't out of the clear. We spent the rest of the evening waiting for the orders to be written up and me to get moved to floor 2. Room 2120 would become my temporary home for the next week. The story continues here!