| 10 hours at the emergency room can make any one cuckoo. As I limp along and cling closely to my bodyguard aka my reliable male friend that came to scoop me up , no questions asked, I wondered if the triage nurse was willing to also add "broken heart" to part of my diagnosis. Of course, this was hour 7 of waiting and I'm pass delusional.
I doubt she would have believed me. My unbelievable friends came rushing to the E.R., thinking I was probably on a death bed somewhere. It made the first 3 hours of waiting, bearable. There, in the midst of all the sickies, I was there hanging out with some of my best friends, laughing. They did a fantastic job keeping me distracted. But that high only stayed an hour after they left.
But why isnt there a diagnosis code for a broken heart? You can write "Inmate inserted brand new bar of soap in rectum", and "Alcoholic 23 year old female with laceration due to wine glass", but there's none for broken heart? After what felt like forever of waiting, (note to self, only go to hospitals where you have a hook up), the doctor came to see me. He was no Noah Wyle or George Clooney, but he came to see my pathetic gimp-bleeding leg. It must have thought I was a nut, but really, who's practical when they havent slept in 24 hours, post-love war?
I watched him, handle my laceration with ease and practice. He gave me something that numbed my leg. (Thank heaven for local anesthetic! I bruise like a blasted peach!!!). This doctor aka my Dr. McWeary carefully sew the laceration, in attempt to stop the bleeding and patch things back up, "good as new". He did it with ease and with a swift hand, probably because he didnt want to hear my 6am banter about spam sushi and jujubee casserole ideas.
I wanted to ask him, he could do the same thing to a broken heart. You know, numb it so the aching can stop, swell it, and patch it up, as if nothing happened. He warned me that I'd scar. Dreams of becoming a leg model shattered. But I told him I'd rather scar a bit than feel the pain, have it get infected and not have it heal. I dont know if I was talking about my leg or my heart at this point.
He gave me the dressings (not the salad, the materials to keep it protected). He recommended that I take Over the counter medication to ease the pain. I limped along the exit doors of the emergency room, patched up leg but shattered heart.
If only there was a diagnosis code for a broken heart, I would like to be the first one in there..get drugged up, patched up, and heal like nothing happen.
Now I'm back at xanga, writing my own pathetic diagnosis code, with my pathetic attempt to clean up this wound. Oh, if I could only turn back time!!
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