a milestone of the kidney kind
posted by ding
Around the time that M- dropped the L-word for the first time, and I was feeling a little weird about it, someone suggested going through an 'emergency room' scenario, a mental exercise to clarify my own feelings.
We have exchanged L-words (I just can't say it, can I?) but this weekend sort of cemented things. In other words, you know you love someone when you rush from your cozy apt on a cold rainy night to go to the ER all the way on the north side because a nurse called and said 'Your boyfriend needs you.'
He had called from his house earlier:
He called from the hospital parking lot (yes, despite fetal position-inducing pain, he *drove* himself): 'I'm about to check in (groan) so I'll call you later. I'm at Swedish Covenant.'
Really trying not to fret I watched tv, looked up kidney stones on the web, ate a sandwich and checked my Blackberry. When an unknown 773 number popped up, I grabbed it.
'Your boyfriend needs you.'
'Tell him I'm coming and I'll be there as soon as I can.'
I texted my friends ('M-! ER! Kidney stones! I'm out!'), dressed, grabbed keys, blew out candles, flagged a cab, grabbed cash, and rushed to the hospital, where I overtipped the cabbie.
It was novel to rush in and exhale, 'My boyfriend was just admitted and I'm here to see him.' Even more novel was the feeling that I *really* did not want anything to happen to this guy. This was beyond the 'gee, I hope things are ok' feeling; this was 'oh, god, it's only kidney stones but if something happens this will wreck me.'
Weird, huh?
Things fall immediately into place when you face what you really feel. The class bullshit I was still holding onto ('We don't match, he's not like anyone I've gone out with before, I graduated from college and he didn't, I don't know if he fits my circle...'), I dropped.
Priorities realign pretty quickly when you see your guy wearing a sad little hospital gown, hooked up to monitors, drugged out of his head, smiling woozily up at you in front of the nurse, and slurring, 'Gimme some sugar.'
Not once did I think 'Let me examine the gender, class and race implications of my brown self being here while these doctors and nurses look at me hold his lily white hand.'
We hid out for the whole weekend at his place reading comic books, watching classic horror movies, eating ice cream and making jokes about the sexiness of peeing into a filter. Silently, I counted how many glasses of water he drank, watched if he was taking his pills on time, and in a rare moment of domesticity, I even made breakfast. (Who cares if it took me 2 freaking hours and I made enough pancakes for the entire Bears line up?)
When I got back to my place Sunday night, I even had a little bit of a cry, for some reason.
It's frakking brutal, this falling in love thing. The books I studied in school don't even come close.
Feel free to share your own moment of 'oh my god, i lurve them.'
[And if you need a more timely political frame for this post, because you don't want to read pointless, girly journal entries from Ding, shouldn't *everyone* have this same right to rush into an ER and say to the admitting nurse My partner is in there and I need to see him/her! ? Civil rights for all is really just that simple. How the world works for me, as a member of the dominant group, is how it should work for everyone.
Or - Shouldn't everyone have the ability to visit the emergency room and not worry that it will bankrupt them forever? Healthcare for all (with a public option) is the decent and right thing to do. There. Political commentary taken care of.]
We have exchanged L-words (I just can't say it, can I?) but this weekend sort of cemented things. In other words, you know you love someone when you rush from your cozy apt on a cold rainy night to go to the ER all the way on the north side because a nurse called and said 'Your boyfriend needs you.'
He had called from his house earlier:
M-: So babe. What are the symptoms of a kidney stone? (groan)
D : Sharp pain, hurts to pee, and blood in your urine. (my old lady television viewing habits come in handy, sometimes.)
M-: I might have a kidney stone. I have to pee all the time. No blood, though.
D: Wow. Are you sure? Sharp pain in your lower back?
M-: Yeah, but I'm ok. Maybe it'll go away. (groan)
D: Kidney stones don't go away unless they leave your penis. I think you should go to the ER.
M-: Maybe I'll take a tylenol and then come over for our date when the pain passes.
D : Whatever. Our date is off. You need to go to the ER.
M-: (GROAN)
D: You need to be at the doctor; tell me where to meet you.
M-: (GROAN MOAN) Uh, I gotta go, babe. I just tried to pee and almost passed out.
He called from the hospital parking lot (yes, despite fetal position-inducing pain, he *drove* himself): 'I'm about to check in (groan) so I'll call you later. I'm at Swedish Covenant.'
Really trying not to fret I watched tv, looked up kidney stones on the web, ate a sandwich and checked my Blackberry. When an unknown 773 number popped up, I grabbed it.
'Your boyfriend needs you.'
'Tell him I'm coming and I'll be there as soon as I can.'
I texted my friends ('M-! ER! Kidney stones! I'm out!'), dressed, grabbed keys, blew out candles, flagged a cab, grabbed cash, and rushed to the hospital, where I overtipped the cabbie.
It was novel to rush in and exhale, 'My boyfriend was just admitted and I'm here to see him.' Even more novel was the feeling that I *really* did not want anything to happen to this guy. This was beyond the 'gee, I hope things are ok' feeling; this was 'oh, god, it's only kidney stones but if something happens this will wreck me.'
Weird, huh?
Things fall immediately into place when you face what you really feel. The class bullshit I was still holding onto ('We don't match, he's not like anyone I've gone out with before, I graduated from college and he didn't, I don't know if he fits my circle...'), I dropped.
Priorities realign pretty quickly when you see your guy wearing a sad little hospital gown, hooked up to monitors, drugged out of his head, smiling woozily up at you in front of the nurse, and slurring, 'Gimme some sugar.'
Not once did I think 'Let me examine the gender, class and race implications of my brown self being here while these doctors and nurses look at me hold his lily white hand.'
We hid out for the whole weekend at his place reading comic books, watching classic horror movies, eating ice cream and making jokes about the sexiness of peeing into a filter. Silently, I counted how many glasses of water he drank, watched if he was taking his pills on time, and in a rare moment of domesticity, I even made breakfast. (Who cares if it took me 2 freaking hours and I made enough pancakes for the entire Bears line up?)
When I got back to my place Sunday night, I even had a little bit of a cry, for some reason.
It's frakking brutal, this falling in love thing. The books I studied in school don't even come close.
Feel free to share your own moment of 'oh my god, i lurve them.'
[And if you need a more timely political frame for this post, because you don't want to read pointless, girly journal entries from Ding, shouldn't *everyone* have this same right to rush into an ER and say to the admitting nurse My partner is in there and I need to see him/her! ? Civil rights for all is really just that simple. How the world works for me, as a member of the dominant group, is how it should work for everyone.
Or - Shouldn't everyone have the ability to visit the emergency room and not worry that it will bankrupt them forever? Healthcare for all (with a public option) is the decent and right thing to do. There. Political commentary taken care of.]
Labels: civil rights, ding, health, kidney stone, mememe
Posted at 6:13 AM
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