I can't remember if I put this on the blog or not, but a long while ago, in December, my little sister and mother rented a video called "Kitten Party" which was just kittens running around being cute for 75 minutes. We LOVED it.
If you have gift cards you simply must go here and buy it--don't forget to read the comments!!!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
ILY, ICU. . . .
*cough cough* Okay, so MAYBE getting pneumonia and flu type B was an over-exaggerated way to get out of school, homework, blogging, PE, life, etc., but I have to tell you. . . I love the intensive care ward.
INTENSIVE CARE:
-Nobody ignores me
-Everybody is nice
-People do things to make me get better
-People do not ignore me
-Big window
-Electric bed (whee!)
-People CARE
-I eat food for the first time
-I get to wear my own shirt again
-I get a second IV
-I get poked with a needle which is raked around in my hand nine times
-I get both IVs taken out
-I get a nose tube in
-I get my nose tube out
-I have to be on constant drug so I am constantly hyper, anxious, obsessive, nauseous, high heartrate, etc.
NON-INTENSIVE CARE, AKA REGULAR HOSPITAL, WHICH THEY CALL THE FLOOR:
-They say you hit the floor. I wish we'd punched it.
-Nobody cares about me
-I do have a shower.
-I have my own bathroom
-Everybody ignores me
-They keep telling me I have asthma. "You MIGHT have had the flu." Heck ya I had the flu, I took the disgusting medicine, didn't I?
-Impersonal nurses.
-Gross medicine
-Call me beautiful, leave me alone, wake me up every four hours to drug me again. Blek.
NUMBERS:
-1: The amount of times I wanted to take gross medicine.
-2: The amount of nights I had with the ever-awesome Tina, who helped me get well. Also the amount of nights I was sedated into lucid dreams in which I decorated socks in my bedroom with Justin Bieber and my French and Social Studies classes as well as played tag with everyone my brain could come up with in a certain huge neighborhood near my school. The recurring theme, though, was me forgetting and/or not doing my homework, which preceded my doom. Grr. Make-up work. And sometimes I just went to school.
-3: Number of meals a day I had. Now I have to drink just orange juice, because everything else tastes like hospital.
-4: The number of pounds I lost. Grr. THANKS A LOT HOSPITAL, NOW MY CLOTHES ARE BAGGY.
-5: Times 10, approximately the speed of the air forced up my nose. I think, don't go around spreading that. It was fast and I heard the number 50.
-6: The number of shows I watched on TLC (Toddlers & Tiaras, Cake Boss, Kitchen Boss, Say Yes to the Dress, DC Cupcakes, and Moving Up) for, like, I dunno, 29 hours?
-7: The amount of days I spent in the hospital. I miss you all SO much.
INTENSIVE CARE:
-Nobody ignores me
-Everybody is nice
-People do things to make me get better
-People do not ignore me
-Big window
-Electric bed (whee!)
-People CARE
-I eat food for the first time
-I get to wear my own shirt again
-I get a second IV
-I get poked with a needle which is raked around in my hand nine times
-I get both IVs taken out
-I get a nose tube in
-I get my nose tube out
-I have to be on constant drug so I am constantly hyper, anxious, obsessive, nauseous, high heartrate, etc.
NON-INTENSIVE CARE, AKA REGULAR HOSPITAL, WHICH THEY CALL THE FLOOR:
-They say you hit the floor. I wish we'd punched it.
-Nobody cares about me
-I do have a shower.
-I have my own bathroom
-Everybody ignores me
-They keep telling me I have asthma. "You MIGHT have had the flu." Heck ya I had the flu, I took the disgusting medicine, didn't I?
-Impersonal nurses.
-Gross medicine
-Call me beautiful, leave me alone, wake me up every four hours to drug me again. Blek.
NUMBERS:
-1: The amount of times I wanted to take gross medicine.
-2: The amount of nights I had with the ever-awesome Tina, who helped me get well. Also the amount of nights I was sedated into lucid dreams in which I decorated socks in my bedroom with Justin Bieber and my French and Social Studies classes as well as played tag with everyone my brain could come up with in a certain huge neighborhood near my school. The recurring theme, though, was me forgetting and/or not doing my homework, which preceded my doom. Grr. Make-up work. And sometimes I just went to school.
-3: Number of meals a day I had. Now I have to drink just orange juice, because everything else tastes like hospital.
-4: The number of pounds I lost. Grr. THANKS A LOT HOSPITAL, NOW MY CLOTHES ARE BAGGY.
-5: Times 10, approximately the speed of the air forced up my nose. I think, don't go around spreading that. It was fast and I heard the number 50.
-6: The number of shows I watched on TLC (Toddlers & Tiaras, Cake Boss, Kitchen Boss, Say Yes to the Dress, DC Cupcakes, and Moving Up) for, like, I dunno, 29 hours?
-7: The amount of days I spent in the hospital. I miss you all SO much.
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