Go, Jilli! It's your GothDay!
I am home. I have no idea when I stopped posting this morning. My sense of time is shot all to hell.
The psychiatrist came back to visit me, and asked if everything went okay. He says he tried his best to raise holy hell after the first visit, and I gotta say--didn't Patient Relations come in right afterwards? And then I started getting doctors?
I had more fights for pain meds--a neuro guy came in and played Bad Addiction Cop. I hate that shit. I get it. The the pain medicine guy came in playing Narcotic Santa Claus, and seemed quite sad that I had been rationing meds.
Which is weird, really, but I figured the amount of meds I was to take would vary depend on when I was leaving (am I going to try to go into work, yadda yadda).
So I doped myself up a few more times, called work, got distracted by a nurse and a call saying my ride was coming by (thanks for the offer, Polgara! LAistas=kind), and probably weirded the hell out of my coworker.
I dressed in the rest of the clothes Kat brought (I'm pretty sure I'm wearing a camo turtle right now, but it's hard to tell from up here) and a very nice nurse let me escape without waiting for a wheelchair.
I got out of the car at home and broke down which got me Stern But Kindly Cop from my ride as he performed his all-too-expert put-ita-to-bed routine. He wouldn't leave until I pretended to sleep, and with the amount of dilaudid still sloshing around in me, I couldn't pretend to sleep without falling asleep.
Woke up later that day (this day??) to text messages about my family's arrival or krav people checking to see if I was alive. Had a massive headache probably related to bounceback or withdrawal, so I took some home-strength painkillers and went back to bed.
And then woke up.
Hallo!
paperdol, you do know I have a couple industry-ish players and a couple people who like you that might want to come to your book party, right?