I'm sleepy. I feel like a rotisserie chicken. I've been
touched, poked, and turned around all night. I'm done. The sleep study is over.
The room I was in was not decorated by Nate Berkus. A
badly painted African picture was displayed in front of my bed.
A brown poo colored elephant and giraffe stared at me all
night. The bathroom was puky green and reeked of sick
ghosts. A bucket with oodles of needles and tubes sat on the counter. I was the
pushpin doll.
Mr. Small, who is a big man, was my nurse. Small man was
very chatty cathy. He brought me dinner. I felt like jumping in a dumpster in
search of something better. Ouch! Tiny big man couldn't find a good
vein. David walked in with Greek food. Praise the husband night.
Before slumberland comes, icky goo was squirted on my head
for the electrodes to stay into place. David was a happy camper. He loves
it when I look ridiculous. He snapped a few pictures.
The night was uneventful. I think the elephant and giraffe spoke
to me once. The vampire nurse woke me up every 2 hours to draw blood.
Morning comes with more bad food. I've been warned about a test
that is painful. This doc takes your blood pressure except it's so
tight, it makes you look like Marty Feldman. Look him
up...pun intended.
I'm have "All-In-One, Rinse-Free Shampoo and
Conditioner Cap" on my head. This magic cap is supposed to take the gummy
like substance off my hair. It's not. I feel like I rolled in chewing gum. The
shower head in the trailer trickles out like clean pee. It took me a
good hour to clean this mess. I still look like I partied too long under a
bridge.
The mailman is here. I see his eyes staring at my head. Whatever.
He hands me a certified letter. There's a loud Jesus sermon coming out of his
truck. It's a sign - I know it. Well goodie, yahoo, and woohoooo! We are being
sued by low life scumbags who never did their job right after the
flood. I hope the thing-a-mawdoo disease I wished on the catalytic converter
thiefs happens to them too. Hey, I'm not Mother Theresa.
No home - no furniture - living in a trailer - goo in my
hair - no money and getting sued. Time for a cocktail.
Copyright Diane Sesler 9/29/10
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