This is inspired by my friend Chuck's recent post about his near-death experience... Mine was definitely less horrific!
Nearly 10 years ago, I developed gall stones. After my second attack, Thing One said that he would insist that I go to the doctor if I had a third. Well, the third happened at 2am one Tuesday morning. I was in incredible pain (another friend gave birth a couple of months before her gallstone attack and confirmed the rumor that the latter is more painful than the former). Of course, being me, I went online and checked some medical books and said "hmmm... I think this is gallstones" rather than waking Thing One up and going to the doctor.
By 4:30 I decided that he should know that I was up, and in pain. It took him the next half hour to convince me that I should go to the hospital (I did win the ambulance v. walking argument). When I got there, my blood pressure, temperature and pulse were dangerously high - my doctor later informed me that had I waited to go to her office, I'd not have survived.
So there I am, in the ER of our local hospital, and they've got me hooked up to an IV of something. Then they decided to give me Dilaudid. BIG mistake. Thing One reports that my eyes rolled back in my head and the doctor/intern/ER guy immediately ripped that line out of the IV thing. So now I know I'm allergic to Dilaudid. They finally found something to kill the pain, which I appreciated (they were already using antibiotics to get the infection down).
At this point, I was pretty drugged out and more than a little loopy. Thing One stepped out to call his work and a couple of people I'd made plans with. And then it happened. The nurse comes over and tells me my mother-in-law is on the phone.
My mother-in-law was calling? A woman I'd never met, who'd died over a decade earlier was on the phone, wanting to talk to me. Me. I wasn't worthy of St. Peter and the Big Book at the Pearly Gates?? I get a phone call? Seriously??? This is how I'm being welcomed to... where ever I was going?
Imagine my relief when I realized that the voice on the other end of the call was my mother - very much alive and kicking. The nurse had made an understandable mistake, assuming that Thing One and I shared a last name. We didn't. We don't. We never will. My parents and I, on the other hand...
Still, there's a part of me that thinks that maybe St. Peter's moving on, technology-wise. Maybe the next time, I'll get a text or dm. Depends on how good the drugs are. I think.