It’s Stressful Up in Here.

“Do you know BFMA?”

Talk about a wake up call.

TH, TS, and I were all laying in various poses on the two couches in the living room. TS has a head cold that came, literally, out of nowhere. He napped yesterday afternoon and by six o’clock that night, he was taking another nap. TH was exhausted from a long day of work and a long night of drinking the night before, so he just wanted to close his eyes and ignore reality for a while. I ended up doing likewise since I didn’t even have the energy to get up, turn on Netflix, and start watching episode of Psych. That’s when I saw BFMA was calling me. I figured she was having another break down moment. I figured she just needed to do the loud sobs at me until she was able to take a long enough and deep enough breath for me to understand what she was trying to tell me. Instead, I was asked if I knew her. I thought the person had found her cell phone on the side of the road and I could barely understand them – they had a thick accent. “What’s going on?” I asked after a few seconds.

“She was found passed out on the side of the road.”

I had forgotten that I had replaced her parents as her personal, emergency contact. BFMA told me that she had placed me in that designated zone on her phone a while ago, but just because she tells me this doesn’t mean I’ll remember later. I was worried and irritated. I forgot BFMA’s hospital preferences, which I kicked my ass about later. I wasn’t sure what her issue was. Was it the drinking? She had been drinking a lot the last few days. Was it dehydration because of her medication and her drinking and not enough water on top of all of that? What was going on? So, I sent the ambulance to the ER that BFMA isn’t a fan of and went to her house to pick up her medications. I wasn’t told if she was awake or speaking or anything, so I had to assume that the idiots wouldn’t know where to find her list of medications that she’s on or anything like that. (Note to self: Keep your own list in your wallet.)

I picked up her meds and went to the ER I thought she was at…

…only to learn that she had the ambulance diverted to the ER she prefers.

I smacked myself upside the head. I knew why she didn’t like the big ER. I knew what all of her reasons are and I agree with them most of the time. But, when you’re running around with cotton in between your ears instead of a brain, you forget these things. I ended up raising back down the road to the ER she was actually at and was forced to wait nearly an hour before they’d let me back there. I was getting irritated and pissed off. The last time she was there – and for the same reasons – I had been allowed back there even before the tests were being done. But, rules is rules and I had to sit around and wait for an hour before they’d let me back to see her. I got to watch an entire episode of Jeopardy and I even managed to get a lot of the answers on the first try.

When I was finally let back there, she was just lying on a gurney. She looked all small and bruised and unhappy. I told her we had to stop meeting this way and she laughed at me. I demanded to know what happened. She sighed and said, “I had a seizure.” And that’s when I really got pissed off. I was already angry on behalf of her because of what her boyfriend decided and how he went about shit. I was already pissed off because no one listens to her and allows her to form an opinion that’s considered valid. I was already pissed off that she had two selfish ingrate squatters living in her living room with their baby. I was already pissed off that all of this was happening and that ex-boyfriend was to fucking blame, but now I was really pissed. I was ten times more pissed off than I was waiting in the waiting room before I was allowed in the ER. I was ten times more pissed off than I was when I saw them load her into the ambulance. I was twenty times more pissed off than I was when I stopped to pick her pill bottles at her house and was met with the “whatever” attitude of one of those squatters.

BFMA has seizures, but it’s not really a huge problem. (Seriously.) She used to have them because of a medication side effect and one of the other times she had one was due to medication interaction. However, the rest of the time, since she’s gone off of the Zoloft, she has them when she’s under a large amount of stress… and her life is fairly stressful right now. I blame the squatters. I blame the ex-boyfriend. I blame her mother. I blame her sisters. I blame everyone. I blame myself because I knew this could happen but because it had been so long, I ignored it all. I forgot about it.

I’m back to being the emergency contact. I’m back to being the one who helps her pick up the pieces. I can do this because I know how. I know what works, I know what doesn’t. I just hope that she let’s me help her. And let’s me smack a bitch… maybe. 🙂

5 thoughts on “It’s Stressful Up in Here.

  1. Wow. Well, kinda explains your exhaustion though.

    Emergency info in wallet=brilliant. I guess some paramedics have even devised a yellow form to fill out and keep in the glove box…mostly for the elderly (because they’re *usually* the ones with massive numbers of medications and medical problems)…but *everyone* should at the minimum have emergency contacts listed…and briefed. Because if they don’t know they’re contacts, it can be rather shocking…

    And sometimes if they know it can be shocking as well!

    Let me just say you’re a wonderful person for taking on the responsibility and FOR TAKING IT SERIOUSLY. Yep. Yer good people!

  2. I give you permission to smack a bitch with the baseball bat O’ truth. Cause if anyone can take someone by the shoulders, shake them into sensibility, then make them see the truth in matters, it’s you.

    And you’ve never stopped being my emergency contact, you know. 🙂

  3. You might also consider getting a generic Medic Alert bracelet or necklace with the emergency contact name and telephone number stamped upon it. Medical care workers tend to look for those things when checking for a pulse.

  4. Some are even large enough to print medications on and are fairly cheap to replace when you change meds.

  5. Pingback: My Bitter, Bitter Stew. | DON'T PANIC

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