Camping With The Borg, Part 1

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You Will Be Assimilated...

We’ve been enjoying house guests, so I’m furiously writing to catch up to my word count for NaNoWriMo.org.  I’ve committed to writing a 50,000-word novel during the month of November.  I thought I’d include some posts about an experience I had this past June.  Enjoy, and have a great day!

Camping With The Borg, Part 1

A Lighter Look At An Awful Hospital Stay

Are I.V.’s supposed to be painful?  This one sure is, and I see blood in the tube.  Is that normal? Such are the thoughts that plague my mind in this hospital.

How did I get here, you ask?  Well, a few days ago I flew to New York to attend a writer’s conference.  Toward the end of the day, I started getting sharp chest pains…the scary kind.

“Zinora,” I say as I turn toward my sister-in-law seated beside me, “I’m having chest pains.  Can you find me some aspirin?”

She promptly rises and brings me back some.  After swallowing, I say, “Can you take me to the hospital?”  I’m scared.

We get to the car, and Zinora calls to tell Bob, my younger brother, on the car speakerphone.

“But I was going to cook up some shrimp scampi,” he says.  “How ‘bout I just cook up the shrimp scampi for you?”

Zinora and I are incredulous.

“Bob,” says Zinora, “Jude’s havin’ a heart attack, and all you can think about is shrimp scampi?”

“How ya feelin’, Jude?” he asks.  “Don’t you want some shrimp scampi first?”

I’m clutching the tightening in my chest, but I’m smiling.

“Forget the stupid shrimp scampi, Bob,” says Zinora.  “We’re going to the hospital.”

But now I’m feeling better.  Why the heck do I want to go to the hospital?

“Zinora, let’s just go back to your place,” I say.

“Are you sure, Jude?”

“Yes.”

She obliges, and calls to tell Bob we’re headed home.  Here’s the kicker.  When we get back to the house, there’s no shrimp scampi.  So Zinora has to make it.

We have a great, fun visit for a few days, and then they take me to the airport.  I’m waiting at the gate, and the chest pain returns.  It doesn’t go away.  No way am I going to fly! I hurry back to the ticket counter, bursting into tears on the way.

“I have to cancel my flight.  I’m having chest pains and have to go to the hospital,” I sob to the attendant.

I call Bob and Zinora, who come back to take me to Nyack Hospital.  We go to the Emergency Room, tell them I have chest pains, and they immediately take me back to a bed.  They put tape stickers all over me and hook me up to an EKG machine, with wires attached to the stickers.

Blood pressure, temperature, blood drawn, then a chest x-ray.

In the middle of all this, I see a lady across from me, crying with her head in her hands, looking very worried.  I can’t move, but I scribble a note and ask Zinora to give it to her.

“Hi.  My name’s Judy, and I’m praying for you.”

She looks at me and smiles.

Once I’m free of the machine, I ask Zinora to go home with Bob.  Then I go over to talk to the lady, whose name is Tara.  She’s ten weeks pregnant, and cramping.  She’s scared she’ll lose the baby—her fourth.  We have a good conversation—she tells me about her boyfriend and kids and abusive ex-husband.  She really wants this baby.  I point out to her that since the staff has been in no rush to do anything with her, maybe that’s a good sign.  We hope so.  We pray.  They finally roll Tara away for a sonogram, and take me for a chest x-ray.

After a long while, a Physician’s Assistant stops by to tell me nothing looks out of the ordinary, but they want to keep me overnight, and do a stress test in the morning.

I’m admitted and wheeled to a room.  A nurse comes in and tapes different stickers all over me.  These things have snaps.

Their EKG machine looks even more monstrous than the one in the ER, with wire tentacles all over the place.  They snap me in, and I begin to empathize with Star Trek’s Captain Jean-Luc Picard, when the Borg captured and assimilated him.

A helpless victim to all this sticking, poking and “snapping in,” my mind is living Jean-Luc’s predicament.  “You will be assimilated.  Resistance is futile.”

…to be continued

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