Have you ever thrown up on yourself while you’re driving?
I used to be able to answer no to that question.
But this morning I had an arthrogram of my left hip. This delightful procedure started with me changing into a mini-gown and being wheeled in a wheelchair out of the MRI room, through the physical therapy room, past the waiting room, out the back door of the building, across the parking lot entry and into the Radiologist’s office so he could inject a bag of saline and contrast into my hip joint with a really really big needle. So many questions…like (1) why isn’t the Radiologist in the same building as the MRI machine? (2) why couldn’t I have changed out of my clothes in the Radiologist’s office? and (3) why wasn’t I given a blanket for my long trip cuz it was friggin cold outside?
After the whole needle in the hip thing, I was wheeled back on the same route back to the MRI machine. The MRI guy said I could choose some music. I said, “anything relaxing…that isn’t Enya.” Well, he must have heard, “anything relaxing…how ’bout some Enya” because that’s what was piped into my earphones for a half hour whilst I sat, unmoving, in my little MRI coffin.
So because the whole arthrogram/Enya thing was pretty traumatic, I thought I’d make myself feel better with a nice soy latte from Starbucks (no more dairy for me). Driving back to work on the 101, enjoying my nice latte, I started to feel…not so great. Then I started feeling hot and quivery. I thought to myself, “relax, you just feel nauseous…you won’t actually throw up.” Boy was I wrong. Suddenly, at about Silverlake Blvd., I started to really feel like I was going to throw up. How lucky was I that I had my lunch in a plastic bag sitting right next to me on the seat? Not very, because the bag had a hole in it. That’s right, I threw up three times into a bag on my lap which then quickly leaked out all over my skirt, my top and my iPhone. Of course I had no napkins because that’s just my luck. I found some Kleenex in my purse, rolled the bag up as best I could and threw it away in a public trash can somewhere off Third street in downtown. I called work, told them what happened and that I was going home and then I called the doctor to make sure the source of my instability was the latte and not some horrible deadly reaction to the arthrogram. It was the latte (and the Enya).
I’ve eaten lunch since and am feeling better. But this was seriously not a good day.