Out of all the prodding, poking, tripping and falling over my own IV chord, peeing and pooping in plastic containers, bruising, paper cuts from too much mail (humblebrag like whoa), needle stabbing, vein threading, flashburing my insides with napalm chemicals, bone sample slicing, spinal tapping, tears of pain and the ultimate battle to decide true existential worth (or lack thereof) fought by Kierkegaard and Nietzsche’s at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm….
…nothing has compared so far with the physiological/psychological trauma that came from a crippling case of THE HICCUPS.
This unlikely foe reduced me from a pristine pinnacle of positive productivity to the former shell of a human that was forced to undergo electroshock lobotomies for weeks on end.
It started on Sunday night during my all-out-rager hospital bed super bowl party. It was a lovely little event that featured a rotating cast of friends who stopped in to watch me eat cheese and soda.
At some point a perfect storm of chemo, carbonation and cheese developed over my Tropic of Capricorn and caused my diaphragm to spasm continuously for the next 60 hours. It would contract every 3-4 seconds leaving me unable to think, talk, type, text, breathe, or concentrate on anything at all. We recorded some footage:
I begged my doctors for medical solutions. One suggested Thorazine, an anticonvulsant/psychotic.
Jason: “GREAT -hic- SOUNDS GOOD -hic-GIMME”
Doc: “Yes, but you should be aware of some potential side effe–”
Jason: “SHUT UP -hic- AND DRUG ME, YOU -hic- LAB COAT WEARING PIECE OF–”
It was as easy as that to get a drug that treats serious mental/behavior disorders, convulsions, and certain types of porphyria (wut?) in the hospital! Had I been in a state of lesser panic, I probably would have asked more about the severity of the side effects: drowsiness, dizziness and perception altering confusion (which rivaled that of any street/lot/research chemical I have knowingly ingested).
I don’t remember much of Monday or Tuesday (2/2-/2/3/2015) but some friends told me they stopped by and found me in this position:
Here is a first hand account:
“I have never seen you more out of it than when we stopped by and you were all hiccup-medicated. When we arrived, you were face down at your computer, you popped up. You were uh… speaking in cursive. I gave you the latte you told me to bring you (I didn’t realize that it was ILLEGAL CONTRABAND), and you couldn’t remember what you’d asked us to come there for in the first place (we did, though). The nurses thought it was hilarious… the one who administered the “anti-hiccup” medicine apologized, as I’m pretty sure the dosage was the equivalent of using a nuclear bomb to swat a fly.” -Erin
So please forgive the lack of content over the last couple of days. It wasn’t because I had nothing, nor was there an even reasonable excuse like FUCKING CANCER, but it was a simple case of the hiccups. I promise it won’t happen again!
