« Rachel two plastic sheaths | Main | Source: Yahoo News »
photographed Monday
By chowbow | June 2, 2007
Yes, it’s slightly larger than in the last entry’s pic. (image © 2006 fugitive247) [see more]
Pat and I have busted our butts the past two days. The shack is still standing, but is a definite off-limits area for the goofies. Pat and I are more concerned with getting the house cleared out quickly so we can begin basic repairs. I took almost two dozen pics of the place on Monday, but only a few are posted on Flickr right now. The whole lot are “before” shots, and simply too depressing to share at this time. It’s truly scary how the ravages of addiction can reduce one’s standard of living to the remnants we’ve been burning the past few days.
I called my dad in the pacific timezone for a consultation (he has a strong medical background and I always consult him on these matters). I told him the size of the wound and he told me I need to see if I need stitches. Great. I had no idea if there was any sort of clinic around, and not having a car made it really difficult. Plus my roommates were already asleep. So I called my friend Leslee. She was just finishing dinner with friends in Millilani and immediately agreed to drive over, pick me up, and drive me to the hospital. She’s lived on Oahu for nearly 28 years so she definitely knows everything by heart. Unfortunately their aren’t many clinics on Oahu and none were open that late. I kind of knew already that this was going to cost a fortune.
I just have to say I am extremely grateful to Leslee. I think one of the true litmus tests of whether a not a friend fits in the lifelong category is whether or not they are willing *and* enthusiastic about driving you to the hospital at an inconvenient hour.
So, at the hospital I was really amazed at the service. They were well-staffed, everyone was super nice and good natured (though that’s probably just the Hawaiian thing), and I got seen immediately! They don’t even have a waiting room big enough to hold more than a few patients, so it must always be fast.
The doctor was very communicative (I got the impression he was a surfer) and I had plenty of opportunity to ask questions without feeling like I was rushed. When he came in to check out the wound he asked me what my story was. I got out about half a sentence before he cut me off “No, no, you’ve got to come up with a better story!” We all laughed (yeah, having to go to the hospital because you’ve stumbled is *really* lame). So, thanks Dr. J. Brent Morosco M.D.!
It turned out I didn’t need stitches afterall, but they patched it up (and a deep cut on my hand that I didn’t notice at the time of the fall). They also insisted on wrapping my sprained ankle with an Ace bandage.
Yes, I said burning. The fire pit’s size has been expanded out of necessity. In the past two days it’s consumed 5 disgusting armchairs, two mattresses, one box spring, a dresser, dozens of lameass romance novels and other assorted paperback crap, a mishmash of mildewed couch cushions and threadbare bedding, and an easy 60 lbs. of the tackiest synthetic fiber garb I’ve seen since the late 70’s. The house cheered as each load of festering insults was removed. My mantra: Burn baby, burn!!!
Topics: Health |
Comments are closed.