Tagged: TMI

Hospital prison log in review: A week in the slammer.

I spent the past week trapped in a goddamned hospital room. Below you’ll find a collection of my daily updates and random musings from my incarceration. It was highly irritating. It’s ok if you think I’m a hero. I probably am.

My "inpatient irritated" face. Goddammit.

My “inpatient irritated” face. Goddammit.

Enjoy, fuckers.

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day One:

March 5, 2014

My captors have succeeded in confining me to a bed in the middle of my cell. I’m under 24 hour surveillance. The food served to us is clearly meant to induce gen pop starvation, rendering inmates too weak to revolt.

I’m using IV needles to scratch out a prison tat. Gonna make some hooch by fermenting SunnyD and dinner rolls in a bed pan.

The smuggling in of any/all contraband is encouraged.

For now, I’ll be singing old spirituals and dragging my metal cup across the cell bars.

Goddammit.

March 5, 2014

Things that are NOT fucking funny. Apparently.

1.) Penciling in “Beer” on the drink list on the dinner menu in the hospital.

March 5, 2014

A nurse (not mine) just walked into the room to give me a cup of water and to turn out the light. I saw her face for half a second, then she turned and the lights went out.

For no fucking reason, and without even thinking, I blurted out, “Are you a twin?”

She spun around, looked at me quizzically and replied, “Yes.”

I don’t know what shocked me most, that I actually fucking asked that, or that she said yes.

We’ve never met, nor do either of us find the other familiar. We ran through lists of possible connections, all the way back to forever ago. She’s much (much) younger than me, we come from different cities, and she hasn’t worked here long.

What the fuck just happened?

And how did I become the fucking nut-job lady on the neuro floor who asks complete strangers if they are a twin, anyway?

I’ve got to get that beer back on the menu.

STAT.

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day Two:

March 6, 2014

There is an alarm on my bed. It’s a “She’s trying to escape!” type of alarm.

I have voiced my indignation via written messages that I have held up to the video camera (aka The Eye in the Sky) that my captors use to watch my every move.

THERE IS A GOTDAMNED ALARM ON MY BED.

It’s starting to smell in here.

March 6, 2014

Mysterious package arrived at the prison today from an anonymous friendly on the outside.

In it were the closest things to my favorite kicks that I can get while incarcerated, along with enough Gummy Bears to pay off the guards for their continued cooperation in this smuggling operation.

Kicks

Sweet kicks.

Great job gang. Be safe out there.

March 6, 2014

Trying to remember if, last night, I was just imagining how funny it would be if I picked my nose on camera, or if I actually picked my nose on camera.

Both scenarios are equally plausible.

Shit.

Unrelated, after listening to his voice this afternoon, if the new patient in the room across the hall doesn’t end up looking exactly like Lou Ferrigno, the world as I know it is a lie

Update on Lou Ferrigno:

Lou missed the cut off for ordering a dinner meal. HULK SMASH.

His wife calls all the staff members “girl”. As in, “That was a good idea, girl.” or “Hey. Girl, can you get me a new chair?” (I should clarify that she doesn’t say it in a familiar, friendly way. At all.)

This just in!!!! “Wife” is actually Lou’s mom.

Further update on Lou Ferrigno:

Lou is talking to family member (maybe wifey?) on SPEAKER PHONE, and while talking about his tumor, his wife busted into Arnold Swarzenegger voice with, “It’s not a too-ma.” He replied in Arnold voice, in turn.

My mind just exploded.

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day 3:

March 7, 2014

I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out which of the assistant guards flagged me as a flight risk. He’s a young man, and clearly dislikes me. Even so, I can tell he’s also a little bit afraid of me. What a brave boy. I’m sure I can bring him over to my side through the magic (and friendship) of My Little Ponies. I’m confident that this is the way to his little Brony heart, as he’s unwittingly indicated by his peculiar behavior, lack of eye contact, and choice of footwear.

No man can eat 50 eggs.

Befriending the narc on cell block N(euro).

Befriending the narc on cell block N(euro).

March 7, 2014

This little piece of awesome made it through the prison mail room, today!

Good to know that people on the outside still get you…

True story.

True story.

Godspeed, all my freedom fighters.

From the hubby via Facebook (March 7, 2014):

Two full days alone with the natives and still no sign of their leader. So far, they have not turned against me. Sometimes I think they think the disappearance of their leader is because of me. There have been a few moments when things got a bit dicey, but we were able to strike a deal and keep peace between us.
I remain positive that their leader will appear soon. Until then I keep my guard up in case of an uprising.

Aaaanooother Update on Inmate #26627 Lou Ferigno:

One hour post-extubation Lou Ferigno turned into a 3 hour post-extubation John Goodman, who turned into 12 hour post-extubation some dude who made 3 open-door-speaker-phone conference calls all before 9:00am today. Because, he may not be Lou Ferigno, or John Goodman, but goddammit, he must be more important than any of us assholes.

Also, one of the more confused (and very combatant) inmates just started barking. I think, perhaps the line between the Neuro cell block and the Psych cell block is a fine one.

A very, very fine one.

Ruff.

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day Four:

March 8, 2014

Forgetting Mrs. Santiago’s medications is the new black.

orangeblack

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day Five:

March 9, 2014

Things got a little dicey on N(euro) block this afternoon. One of the inmates was screaming that one of the guards was “running her mouth when she shouldn’t be”. That’s about all I know. I was trying to dip, but that shit happened while *my* cell was on lock down, because none of your goddamned business.

Otherwise quiet Sunday on the block. Made eyeliner out of deodorant and pencil lead. One more jelly packet from the mess hall, and I’ll have enough to make some hair gel.

Sonofa.

March 10, 2014

Thanks to all of my pals for making my time on the inside much easier. You turkeys crack me up. Best care packages, and best looking mules in five counties. Bet.

March 10, 2014

THIS. I’m calling this infusion “PAROLE”. I’m about to get sprung from this joint, y’all. *does the Cabbage Patch, Running Man, Coffee Grinder to end pose*

I'm out, bitches.

I’m out, bitches.

St. Luke’s Hospital Prison Log
Day six (and final) entry:

March 10, 2014

Like a fart in the wind.

Like a fart in the wind.

March 10, 2014

Okay, this is just the sweetest photo of my daughter. (Taken from my bed.)

Perched in my window.

Perched in my window.

March 11, 2014

I’m using the bathroom without being watched by a nurse, for fear that I might have a seizure and fall.

This is some exciting shit.

Scars or Stripes?

This morning I stood in front of the bathroom mirror after my shower, as I tend to do when my birthday is coming up. Which is probably weird. Whatever.

This time, as I looked at my two c-section scars, that little pouch of saggy, fatty skin just above the long scar (the one that shrinks over time, but always seems to hang around), and the stretch marks (turned mini craters) that appeared each time my abdomen had expanded, I was kind of glad they were there. A few years ago I wouldn’t have looked at them that way. So it’s something kind of new for me.

Instead of the “Ugh, gross.” I’d have normally sighed, I kind of, sort of, smiled a little.

(Fucking *smiled*. Where the hell did that come from? Such a weirdo.)

Ok, but the “imperfections” seem pretty perfect now. They’re reminders of what this body was once capable of. Those marks are part of what it took to get my girls here.

So, they’re perfect scars, perfect, saggy little marks peppered across my belly.

With my birthday coming up, I’m happy to be at a place in my life that I am able to admire my body for what it has created. I’ve decided not disrespect it by wishing those imperfections away.

Besides, it’s like having a few extra guests at my birthday party. Gross. Just kidding. Probably kidding.

THIS HAS BEEN YOUR TMI POST FOR THE DAY.

You’re welcome.