Thanks to some foul Portland pizza, I got to spend eight hours Thursday nights in the ER, jostling with the crowd of homeless and drug-addicted that take refuge in local ERs on cold nights like Thursday night.
Around 11pm I texted Matthew that this pizza might be the end of me. Little did I know how prophetic that might be.
An hour later my body had a pizza rejection. I’m the worst at vomiting in the world. Which is why I’ve only vomited about three times in my adult life. But, there was no holding back.
I stood over and the toilet spraying foul pizza. Three successive blasts that felt like I was being gutted alive. Then the room started spinning. Evidently the exertion was too much for someone with inherently low blood pressure and a resting heart rate near 45.
When awoke I was laying in the shower in a pile of broken glass that once was a shower door and glass curtain. I looked over and remember seeing some puke on the side of the toilet. Damn, I better get that cleaned up. On my hands and knees I crawled over, only to realize my right arm wasn’t working.
Looking down I noticed a lot of blood and much of it was coming from two big holes in my right forearm. Oh oh. This looks like a problem.
Dang, I better get this taken care of and get to the ER. So I wrapped a towel around it and walked down to the lobby of the hotel and asked where the nearest urgent care was. The lady said you look like you need more than urgent care, and our driver will take you to the ER. So I did.
Now I’m patched up, stapled up and in a sling. Doc says I have a lot of tendons and muscle that are severed in my right hand/arm. I am scheduled for hand surgery Monday morning in Bozeman. Hoping that goes well.
Moral of the story - beware of the pizza in Portland
Around 11pm I texted Matthew that this pizza might be the end of me. Little did I know how prophetic that might be.
An hour later my body had a pizza rejection. I’m the worst at vomiting in the world. Which is why I’ve only vomited about three times in my adult life. But, there was no holding back.
I stood over and the toilet spraying foul pizza. Three successive blasts that felt like I was being gutted alive. Then the room started spinning. Evidently the exertion was too much for someone with inherently low blood pressure and a resting heart rate near 45.
When awoke I was laying in the shower in a pile of broken glass that once was a shower door and glass curtain. I looked over and remember seeing some puke on the side of the toilet. Damn, I better get that cleaned up. On my hands and knees I crawled over, only to realize my right arm wasn’t working.
Looking down I noticed a lot of blood and much of it was coming from two big holes in my right forearm. Oh oh. This looks like a problem.
Dang, I better get this taken care of and get to the ER. So I wrapped a towel around it and walked down to the lobby of the hotel and asked where the nearest urgent care was. The lady said you look like you need more than urgent care, and our driver will take you to the ER. So I did.
Now I’m patched up, stapled up and in a sling. Doc says I have a lot of tendons and muscle that are severed in my right hand/arm. I am scheduled for hand surgery Monday morning in Bozeman. Hoping that goes well.
Moral of the story - beware of the pizza in Portland
