My first doctor completely misdiagnosed me. By the time their slow test results came back and they realized, I had to go to the emergency room.
I gave birth to two alien babies. I named them Gilgamesh and Superman. They took over the CT Scan room for about three hours before a security guard chased them into the ductwork where they, I presume are roaming North Atlanta right now.
In the meantime, the results to me are a very serious bacterial infection in a major internal organ zone. I’m getting better with proper medicine, now, and I’ll be seeing a specialist this week.
How sick was I? The triage nurse saw me immediately, and within moments on a Saturday night, I had a room and a bed and an IV.
My girlfriend was with me all weekend, and I’m about to buy her the largest bouqet of roses I can find. Angie was a miracle worker. She drove me in, and stayed with me all weekend nursing me back from the brink. Angie did an amazing job. I don’t know what I would have done without her.
My mom’s here, now. My mom is a very experienced medical professional with over twenty-five years experience in everything practical. She’ll be here all week.
I mention this just to let you know I’m going to be gone a while. I’ve gotta heal, yo.
If you’re the flower sending type, well, I don’t really have any room here for flowers.
I do know I have good insurance, so I didn’t break the back. Not every writer is so lucky. The SFWA Emergency Medical Fund could always use your donations.
I’m getting better. I just need some time. My mom is just about the best person you could possibly have around in times like these (and Angie was, too, this weekend).
I’ll let you know when I’m walking again.