Fun times in the ER
Both my fiance and our roommate had colds in the past week or two and despite my desperate attempts to avoid their icky, icky germs, I managed to catch one too. At least I thought it was just a cold - but instead of moving up into the ol’ schnozz, whatever it is moved up into my ear and settled there to torture me. After toughing it out all day Saturday, the ear pain got so bad late Sunday night that I called my doctor and he told me to go to the emergency room at Beth Israel, conveniently located just a short walk from my apartment.
I am really weird about the ER and feel like I shouldn’t go there unless there’s something broken or I can’t breathe. In fact, before Sunday night, I had only been to the ER three times - once to give birth, once because I had a 105 degree fever and once because I sprained my ankle really badly and couldn’t walk on it without searing pain. I didn’t have a fever, I most certainly was not pushing anyone or anything out of my uterus, and I walked to the hospital, so I kind of felt like a dick. But it turns out I have a really bad ear infection, so they gave me some antibiotics and a Percocet - which didn’t make a dent in the ear pain - and sent me on my way. I felt less like a dick after that. I mean, I was in a lot of pain.
Highlights of the ER visit after the jump.
During my ER visit, I saw:
Seven drunks passed out in the waiting room;
A dude who had been beaten up whose entire eyeball was so full of blood that the white of his eye looked black;
A heroin addict yelling at the nurses to give him methadone and upon denial of his request accusing them of treating him like shit because he was black. I’m pretty sure they that if they were treating him like shit it was because he was yelling;
And a sleeping man’s penis.*
Also, just as an FYI - Beth Israel ER on a Sunday night at about midnight has a pretty quick turnaround - we were in, treated and done within about an hour and 45 minutes. Just thought I’d let you know in case any of you decide to get in a fight, get alcohol poisoning, or fall down in my neighborhood. I’d advise wearing pants, though.
* The above-referenced penis was hanging out of the boxers of a passed-out drunk, apparently homeless man who was lying on a stretcher. The orderlies kept moving the stretcher around because they didn’t have a room to put him in and passed us a few times. We started calling it the penis parade, mostly because we’re really, really classy.
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