As you can see by my lovely collection of bracelets, I ended up at the E.R. Thursday morning. I've been dealing with a mold issue in my air conditioning unit and it's possibly been making me sick. Hopefully, the A/C will be fixed on Monday. My visit turned out to be one of the funniest, yet. In my woozy state, I remembered my brother mentioning reading about urine therapy; apparently, urine has nutrients in it and according to Eastern medicine, is not just a waste product. Even the Aztecs used it as an antiseptic for cleaning out wounds. So my husband looked it up on his smart phone and read me all the interesting facts. At the end of the article, which I wish I had the link to, there was some odd trivia about urine. I learned that vultures pee on their legs to cool themselves off when they are hot. I could NOT make this stuff up if I tried! It's true. Look at all these links:
How bizarre is that?
While I was laughing about that, a nurse came to start an I.V. and he had an E.M.T. student with him who was studying to be a firefighter as well.
"What were you planning to do today?" the nurse asked.
"Well, I was going to finish editing a short story, but now I'm here, instead."
"You're a writer?"
And I in my woozy, fatigued state grinned like an idiot and said, "Why, yes, I am."
"Well, what kind of stuff do you write?"
"I write dark fiction, sci-fi, dark fantasy, and horror. I have a web site too."
And then I gave him the link to my site, not like he would probably remember, but you never know. He could get bored at work on his break and look me up. *grins* Hey, if I could get a book sale out of my hospital visit, I'd be happier than a vulture peeing on itself. *chuckles*
Never miss the chance to get your name out there, even if you're a little loopy and in the emergency room wearing a ridiculous gown with no back.
My husband and I got on this tangent after the nurse and E.M.T. in training had left because while they were there someone asked about a D.N.R. (Do not resuscitate order). Of course, I told my husband he was not allowed to let me be a vegetable for more than 60 days, which he already knew anyway.
"I will be your vegetable," said my husband. He confessed in private that he would never be broccoli because no one likes broccoli; he would be corn. I forget why. By then the meds in the I.V. were working.
So, if you were a vegetable, what kind would you be?
As always, happy writing and happy reading to all!