Friday, October 28, 2011

Really, Not That You Asked (2)

4:00 AM: Someone comes and gives me narcotics.  I immediately feel a little high.

4:30 AM: I get into the tub to hang out.  My contractions slow down.  A lot.  I can't be bothered to care.

5:45 AM: The narcotics start wearing off.  I can't have more yet.  Back to sobbing and pain.  We call the nurse and talk about epidurals. "I feel so bad!" I weep.  "About the epidural?  Oh, honey, you don't need to feel bad," she says.  "No I just feel awful," I say. I get out.  Every three fucking minutes again.

6:00 AM: Anesthesia shows up.  I've drawn a resident and her attending.  She hits something the first time and tries again.  Even in my haze, I think, sweetie, you get ONE more try and then so help me that ATTENDING is sticking me in the spine.  She gets it the second time.

6:45 AM: The epidural finally kicks in.  Bliss!  I can still move, but I'm not in excruciating pain any more.  I fall asleep.

7:00 AM: A hammer drill, a circular saw, and a drill start simultaneously outside my window.


  1. ARGH! that is a terrible punchline.

    i am officially asking what happens next.


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