#i am literally on morphine why am i still so fucking coherent

[aaronhart93-archive]

hospital || aaroman

Discord thread featuring: Aaron & @romanbeckett

When: October 13, 2020

Where: hospital

mentions: @quentindelancret

Description: aaron rushes to the hospital after he finds out roman’s been hurt

Trigger Warnings: blood, mentions of hate crime/physical assault, self blame, severe injuries

Aaron. 

Aaron literally couldn't see straight. He practically felt his whole world fall apart when Quentin texted him to tell him to come to the hospital and that there had been a bad attack. Of course, Aaron's mind literally jumped to the worse case scenario as he scrambled to find his keys and get his shoes on. He had to remember to breathe because if he didn't keep reminding himself to breathe in and out, he would forget to. Tears were pricking at his eyes as he gripped the steering wheel towards the hospital, nearly hitting a biker as he sped through the streets. Thank god it was late or else it would have taken him forever to get there. The nurses of course gave Aaron and issue about going back, even after telling them over and over again that Roman was he partner. So he had to bribe them, and he did it without hesitation too. "Roman." He sniffed, sitting at the side of his bed and grabbing onto his decorated hand immediately, squeezing it softly. He took a deep breath. "Roman. Holy fuck. I'm so sorry."

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman wasn’t overly coherent. His brain was still truing to take in what had just happened. He wasn’t sure what condition he was in, and more importantly, how Q was doing. He felt so guilty. He should have never tried to wear makeup, and draw attention to them. He knew better, from personal experience, and yet still did so anyway. When he heard Aaron’s voice, the actor felt bad, but couldn’t help but also feel relieved. “It was my own fault.” He answered in a scratchy voice, wincing when his blood pressure cuff started fo go off again.  “Can Jus’ add this to the list of stupid things I’ve done. I should’ve just stayed home.” He closed his eyes, and hit his morphine button.(edited)

Aaron

Aaron shook his head and held his boyfriend's hand tightly. There was nothing about this that was Roman's fault. He could see the makeup running down his eyes though so he knew that that was what Roman was referring to when he said that he shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. "Babe, It's not your fault. And I shouldn't have left. If anything this is my fault. If I didn't pick a fight with you, we would've been in bed together right now. I -" He felt his throat tighten, and tears once again prick at his eyes. "I'm so sorry. Fuck." He kissed the back of Roman's hand then pressed his forehead to the actor's hand.

Roman.

felt like the guiltiest person in the situation. He as always, was running from his issues, and suffering the consequences of covering his sadness with wreck less behavior. “This is not your fault.” He assured the smaller, looking at the business man through his lashes before he realized his face was still covered with dry blood. “Could you...help me get cleaned up?” He asked pitifully, just needing to be clean, and free from all this dried blood. “how’s Quentin?” He asked desperately.

Aaron

Obviously Roman was going to tell Aaron that this wasn't his fault and obviously Aaron wasn't going to believe him. He was going to think this was his fault for the rest of his life. No doubt. Aaron perked up and nodded. He sent a quick text to Quentin to see how he was. "He was the one that told me to come. So I think he's okay. I just texted him though." He assured his boyfriend, grabbing and paper towel and putting some soap and warm water on it. He sat on the bed and hover over his partner, looking like a hurt puppy when he finally realized just how fucked up Roman was. He was never not going to feel guilty for this. "Do you remember what happened?" He asked, pressing his lips together.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman watched his boyfriend as he texted Quentin, and then got a paper towel to help clean him up. Why hadn’t a nurse done this yet?! Maybe he was expecting too much, too soon - but he hated looking like this in front of Aaron. If the roles were reversed, lord knows he’d be a fucking mess. “I remember what started it. They were making fun of us, of me.” He emphasized, and then leaned his head back on the pillow behind him with a sigh. “Calling us all the great gay slang names, the usual. Quentin jumped one of the guys when they made fun of my makeup, and made some comment about me giving them a blow job, and it all went downhill from there. I jus’ remember them punching Quentin, and I jus’ - fuck.” He shook his head, and took in a shaky breath. “There were a lot of things I should have done different tonight.”

Aaron

Aaron took several shaky breaths, trying to keep himself calm as he cleaned his partner off. If he cried in front of Roman, he knew that that would just set Roman off too and he didn't want to make the other more upset that he already was. And God - this story was exactly like what had happened to him before. What if Roman didn't feel safe in New York anymore? Aaron should have been there. Roman was his boyfriend and it was his job to protect him. Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and took another shaky breath. "You didn't do anything wrong. I shouldn't have left. I was going to say I was just being stubborn. I'm going to find out who did this." He assured him, because that we the only way he thought that he could possibly make up for this.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman didn’t want Aaron feeling like any of this was his fault. They’d had a fight, couples had fights, but that didn’t mean it was Aaron’s fault that Ro got HURT. That was ludacris, and he needed the man to see that. “Baby, this is NOT your fault. Okay. Look at me.” He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand, forcing him to keep eye contact. “I chose to go out. I made this decision, not you. Ended up getting a friend hurt in the process, and I fucking hate myself for it.” He admitted with a break in his voice.

Aaron

He opened his eyes to look softly down at his boyfriend. What would he had possibly done if something worse had happened to him? His life without those green eyes was something he couldn't think about. Nothing that Roman could say was going to make him feel any other way, so he just nodded softly and pretended to agree with him. "Let's agree that it wasn't either of our fault. It was the guys who hurt you." He said half heartedly.  "I'll call Nick tomorrow." He promised, getting back to work on the blood all over his face. Obviously, Aaron wasn't going to let these people get away with what they did.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman just nodded when Aaron tried to come to an understanding, getting where he was coming from, and feeling the need to swipe his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles. “No rush. I jus’...I don’t know that we’ll be able to find them, I feel so —“ he didn’t even know what to say, shaking his head before taking in a deep sigh, eyes now tearing up because he couldn’t stop himself from being emotional apparently for two damn seconds. “People are allowed to do this shit, and they always get away with it.”

Aaron

Aaron just shook his head. "I know, I know. But you have Aaron Hart on your side now." He tried to reassure him, even forcing a smile. "In the words of Roman Beckett, we will figure it out." He couldn't count the amount of time Roman had said that to him and they were in fact able to figure it out. He forced a smile, trying to believe this himself. He finally got him as cleaned up as he was going to get without a proper shower. Aaron told Roman that Quentin eventually texted him back to report that everything was okay, and that Dorian would be there for him soon. "Now, when else do you need?" He asked after he'd gotten him cleaned up and as comfortable as possible.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman just shook his head when Aaron asked what else he needed, because honestly...he couldn’t think of anything he wanted other than Aaron right now. He needed him, wanted him, desired to go back in time and make that argument not happen. If he would have been more open, then everything would be okay, and he wouldn’t be in this hospital bed right now. That was a hard pill to swallow. “You should go home and rest...I don’t want you to have to sleep here.”

Aaron

There was no way Aaron was leaving roman’s side. Was he crazy? If it were up to Aaron, he would leave his boyfriend’s side for weeks. “I’m not leaving you.” He shook his head, as he grabbed his hand again. He leaned down to place a soft peck on Roman’s forehead - he didn’t want to hurt him but he also wanted to squeeze him so tightly so that nothing this had would ever happen again. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I can send Landon.” He told him.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman managed a smirk when Aaron said he wasn’t leaving him, and then kissed his forehead, making him fond way harder than he really meant to. He couldn’t help it with Aaron. “Honestly?” He sighed, and then looked down at their hands together. “I know it’ll be difficult, and the bed is bloody small, but I really want you to get under these sheets with me right now.”

Aaron

Aaron eyes brightened at his words. Smiling, he immediately kicked off his sneakers and crawled next to him in bed, snuggling underneath the covers next to him. “Am I hurting you?” He asked. The literal last thing he wanted to do was get up out of this nasty hospital bed, but he didn’t want to cause Roman anymore pain than he was already in.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman looked so fucking relieved when Aaron got in bed with him, immediately snuggling up to his boyfriend as best he could without pulling any tubes, or putting himself in too much pain. He didn’t even care if it hurt at this point, he just wanted to be with his man. “No baby. You’re perfect.” He hummed, and turned his head to kiss Aaron’s chest before his arm was wrapping around his middle. “I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

Aaron

Aaron wrapped his arm around Roman as tightly as he could without causing Roman any pain. He craned his next to look at his boyfriend when he spoke to him. Shaking his head, he took a heavy deep breath. “No no. Don’t do that. Stop that.” He demanded, kissing the top of his head and trailing his fingers up and down Ro’s back. He would much rather be snuggling in Roman’s bed right. Where they should have been. But he was just happy that Roman was in his arms right now.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

They were gross, and that was that. As usual, they couldn’t even make it a whole day “fighting” without something happening to bring them back together. Maybe that was love, the kind of love that Ro had yet to experience before Aaron. It was a level of comfort he couldn’t describe, but he wanted to. “I don’t know when they’re gonna let me out of here, but I wanna go home.” He mumbled against his boyfriend’s chest, still buried there to feel and hear the heartbeat that seemed to keep both of them going.

Aaron

This didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be right? This was all some crazy nightmare that he was going to wake up from in the morning. He was going to be next to Roman and he was going to be okay. By the looks of his injuries, it was going to be a while until they would let Roman out of here. Aaron wanted whatever Roman wanted, but right now he just wanted his boyfriend to be okay and if that meant he had to stay here for a while then so be it. “I’ll talk to the nurses. You know I had the bribe them to get back here.” He tried to get Roman to laugh at least a little bit. He forced a short chuckle.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

“Don’t act like it’s hard for you to bribe anyone.” He sassed his boyfriend, lifting his chin to smirk up at the other male, taking a moment just to stare at him before he was sighing, and pressing his cheek back to Aaron’s chest, just clinging to him with his arm tight around his middle. He just wanted to cling to the man forever now, because with Aaron he felt safe, like no one else could ever hurt him, and that was such a good feeling.

[quarantine-stories]

Dear stranger,

It has been seven months seen our world got turned upside down. In March, we were put into quarantine because of a worldwide pandemic. Usually, a mandatory order to stay home would have seemed like heaven to me. I like being alone with my thoughts, and I like doing things on my own. However, after three months of working remotely, baking everything I could think of and talking to myself to the point of insanity, the only thing I wanted to do was to go back to civilization. Don’t get me wrong, I loved spending this time on my own but I missed human connection. 

I was also very eager to see my mother again after three months isolated on my own. You see stranger, my mother was diagnosed with an advanced form of ovarian cancer back in October 2019, and this mandatory time away from her  gave me (severe) anxiety of losing the time I had left with her. So, when we were finally allowed to go back outside (providing we stay socially distanced), I rushed to my mother’s side. In these three months, we had kept in touch by sending each other stupid memes, and by calling each other often, but I still felt that I had so much to tell her. Her chemotherapy had not stopped during quarantine, and she seemed exhausted from it. She hadn’t wanted me to worry by telling me that chemo was beating her ass (her words, not mine) and that she hoped she’d be better when we would see each other again, which is very sweet of her, but also very infuriating. Here, I was naively thinking that she was getting better when actually she was getting sicker every day. Nevertheless, as hard as it was, I had missed her and seeing her was like a breath of fresh air. 

In June, she was admitted to the hospital because she was in excruciating pain, and it went downhill from that moment on. She gradually stopped feeding herself, but I thought nothing of it because the doctor said they had the situation under control as she was receiving the necessary nutrients through perfusion. 

In July, she stopped walking and every time I saw her she was laying in her hospital bed. She mostly seemed appeased, because of the morphine and the anxiety medicine, but I thought that it was just her natural calmness, it did not occur to be that it could be the drugs. At this point, I was in deep denial that she might be dying. I thought these were just temporary side effects from the chemo, and that everything would go back to normal at some point, that she would go home and that she would eventually heal. Even after my mother’s state had deteriorated further, and after my parents decided to get an “administratively urgent marriage”, it did not go through my mind that my mother’s life was in peril. 

They got married in the hospital board room, by the mayor, who was in full protective gear. We were all wearing the mandatory masks, but she must have been scared shitless of being infected so she came prepared. She was wearing two masks, two pairs of gloves, a face shield, little paper boots, and one of those paper blouse nurses wear to protect themselves from their patients fluids. This seemed very absurd to me. I mean, she can wear whatever she wants, and she is allowed to be afraid to enter a hospital, during a pandemic, but I mean have a little self-respect, no? She was trembling when she entered the room and asked that a spot was marked on the floor so that she would stand exactly one meter away from us, not one millimeter closer. Ten minutes into the ceremony, I was still mocking her in my head, during which I also told myself that the masks were, for once, a godsend, because I could smugly smile at her without her seeing. Her behavior almost made me forget that we were marrying my dying mother. The marriage was small, just my father, my mother, me as my father’s witness and a family friend, who we’ve known for my whole life. Dying mother aside, it was a nice moment. The mayor made a tearful and thoughtful speech, we even laughed at little, as she tried to lighten the mood, we took pictures of everyone, the nurses had even ordered a bouquet for my mother. We almost forgot for a second why this wedding was happening. After that, we got back to her room and talked for a few hours but I could see she was exhausted and just wanted us to leave. Before we left, she could barely talk coherently and I could see her struggling not to fall asleep. I think she held on for as long as she could and once the wedding was officially done, she just let herself go. 

The next day, she couldn’t even talk in full sentences and was very incoherent whenever she managed to do so. Then every day she got worse and worse, to the point were she didn’t speak anymore and just laid in her bed as if she was sleeping. My father and I went to see her every day the following week. We tried talking to her, in vain, so we talked to each other. We watched TV, and scrolled aimlessly through our phones. It was very hard to see her in that vegetative state and I was still in denial. I thought that this was a rough patch, and that it would pass, that she would get better. I could not even fathom the thought of her dying, and not existing anymore. She’s my mother. She was supposed to live to a 100, and be healthy her whole life. She was supposed to be a strong, resilient woman that never let herself be brought down by anything. However, that was the fantasy that I had built up in my head. She was all these things, but she was also human, and unfortunately we are not immune to fucking cancer. 

Exactly eight days after the wedding, she passed away. My father called me in the morning, with a trembling voice, and I knew instantly that that was it. I had never seen him cry before that. He was always so composed so hearing his voice tremble through the phone and seeing him crushed by her death was like being hit by a truck. It hurt so much. I always knew that experiencing the death of a loved one was hard, but I never expected it to be this hard. It’s safe to say that this was the worst day of my life. It is hard enough living through a worldwide pandemic, seeing the world literally crumble around you, but adding to that the death of my mother was the fucking cherry on top. I thought that the world would stop, and that I would have time to process but unfortunately that is not how life works.

It has now been three months and four days since she died, and I feel like I am sometimes still in denial. Today, we are being put into quarantine again, because, yes, the world is still going to shit. And, because, no the world does not stop when you are sad, which in my opinion, is very rude of the world. Today, I am still grateful that I got to spend some time with her in between the two quarantines. If we had stayed in lockdown since March, I would have never had the chance to hug her before her death, and I would never have had the chance to hear her voice again. So for that, I am grateful.

Stranger, I am sharing these moments because in searching for comfort during these last few months, I did not find many stories like mine, in fact I only found one. There are not many books with stories of 22 year olds losing their 50 year old mother to cancer. So this blog, is here for that. Sharing this narrative, and hopefully helping others in similar situations, because I know that I am not alone, there just seems to be very few of us willing to share our story. 

Goodbye, for now, and until next time, take care of yourself.

[aquarianlights]

Anyone have information on the repeated long term use of Topamax (Topiramate) in correlation with memory loss and its permanency?

[c/ped from my FB]

I know this is a SUPER long shot as this is kinda specific...but..........

I forgot about the Topamax side effects........

So this is my...either 5th or 6th time being on Topamax for a long term period in my life. At least...this is the beginning of a long term period for me with it again (it's supposed to be...if it works out). I know it works for both my optical AND chronic migraines. . .my Metropolol was working fine, but will always choose any med over a blood pressure med because my BP is chronically low and adding a BP med is always dangerous and last night in the hospital, my BP was so low that they had to give me a bag of fluid and up my BP a bit through mere time in order to make me even eligible for the morphine shot. It was either 63/81 or 81/63. I think the latter...I can never remember if the higher number goes on top or not. But those were the numbers and one of them is supposed to be in the triple digits in order to have a "normal" BP and mine never is, but it normally isn't THAT low but I had taken my Metropolol before coming in and they said it was getting scary-level and since your BP drops (along with everything) as you're sleeping...it's even scarier since I was awake at that take and I take my BP med (for chronic and optical migraines---both debilitating) at night before going to sleep when my BP will drop even more. So...switching to anything different than a BP med has added benefits for me as someone with chronically low BP.

I can't even tell you how many times I wasn't eligible to receive my own goddamn medication in psych wards for hours on end because my BP was "too low" for it to be "safe" to give me my OWN MEDICATIONS. So they'd just have to take it again every 15 minutes until my BP was high enough for me to receive meds. They'd literally wake me up at the crack of fucking dawn BEFORE the other patients (which, if you've ever been in a ward, you know that you have to wake up and be out of your room at scary early hours) so I could walk laps down the halls in order to up my BP enough to reach just right at the limit to be eligible for my medications......some of which I needed to survive. They would literally withhold medication which resulted in life-threatening results because my BP was always too low. You'd think this would be illegal, but... Well, frankly, if you think this is illegal, then that really shows you've never been in a ward before in your life....lolololol.

ANYWAYS

So the side effects I've experienced the worst of while on Topamax are two things that have really impacted my life immensely and I'm terrified of: 1) Memory loss, both long term and short term, as well as altering memories and pulling my memories out of chronological order and 2) An inability to be articulate. Somehow I can never word/phrase things correctly or find the right words or even the correct synonym to a common word I use in my every day life... Sometimes I even forget the most basic of words that I use every single day...Or I forget how to form a complete sentence.

These are both after long term use. It usually doesn't happen during the first month or so. But... Number 1 was irreversible. I still have issues with that to this day and I still struggle with it because of the Topamax (aka Topirimate). Number 2... That went away after I stopped taking it. In fact, number not only went away, but I have become MORE articulate over the years and have expanded my vocabulary immensely.

What I'm scared of is... Part 1... The memory loss... It didn't stop when I stopped taking it, obviously. But it never worsened. I'm wondering if I take it long term like I am trying to do now...at the highest doses possible (starting at 25/25 morning/night for one week than 50/50 until I can titrate to 100/100 morning/night after 3 weeks on the 50/50 and possibly titrate more after that because of the nature and severity of my chronic migraines and the pure nature of my optical ones). I'm just straight up starting at 50/50. I don't care to spend a week on the 25/25. I just don't. I've been on this med too many times to care about titration.

Anyways... I'm scared that the memory loss will get worse. Like...to the point of dementia or even a medicine-induced Alzheimer's. Because...I have been told by many doctors and even neurologists that my memory will never return to how it was prior to Topamax. They took me off of it many times because of the 2nd thing...my loss of speech. Sometimes I couldn't even form coherent sentences...which was scary.

But we are choosing Topamax instead of something else because I already know it works and I've been on it a million times with every possible psych med so I know it won't interfere with anything and my BP will be fine and because I'm going to be spending a while....who knows how long....figuring out what's wrong with my psych meds and what to do about them. . .which I will be meeting with a different eval team for the same program only in my area on Tuesday. And probably get an appointment that same week. So...

I'm not TOO worried about number 2 because I know it will come back to me if I stop taking it. And I'm sort of...expecting and preparing myself for it. . .a loss of ability to be articulate verbally and write flowing-ly and such. My strongest suits, sometimes. I'm expecting it and preparing for it by creating a pocket dictionary and a virtual one on my phone that will have key words I use on the daily and things I think of that I use in casual conversation that I begin to forget AS I forget them. Coz number 2 happens gradually. Or, at least, it has all the other times.

Number 1 terrifies me because I HAVE to pass the MCAT.... I HAVE to be able to remember a fuckton of stuff for tests for my major...and I have to be able to recall anything on a moments notice to be a doctor in the ER in general, nevertheless a surgeon.

If my memory gets any worse, there's absolutely no hope of me ever passing a test again in my life, even if I know the subject matter. I expect to be on Topamax again for about a year. Maybe longer. I'm guesstimating 1-3 years... Coz it took 7 years to find the right psych meds for me at the right dosages. We have the right combo of psych meds...so we just need to play with the dosages...so I'm assuming that's gonna take at least a year, if not 2-3 years. So that's why I'm saying 1-3. I'm gonna be on Topamax until my psych meds stabilize and then I'm hopefully gonna switch back to the Metropolol.

Has anyone had extensive experience with Topamax? Not just...a one time "Oh yeah same. Like I lost my memory from it once and never took it again" sort of deal. But like...multiple times like me. Like I said, this is my 5th or 6th time taking it long term. Long term being 1 year or longer for each time. Does anyone have experience with topamax and this long of a term and like...intermittently like this?

The memory loss/alteration is irreversible if it gets any worse. And I can't afford for it to get any worse...

[christyinchina-blog1]

China Keeps Testing Me

I know I made a decision to blog and that I’ve been very neglectful of that of late, but diving into a place like China… it leaves you a little preoccupied with what’s in front of you. I think maybe that’s been the biggest gift about this place, as well as perhaps it’s burden. I came to Beijing with a lot of weight on my shoulders. There were so many things about my life that were plaguing me, things I knew I couldn’t fix, but I knew I needed distance from. I think if I went anywhere else, I would still be preoccupied and trapped inside my own head, but not in Beijing.    

This city wakes you up. This city takes you into its dark heart, ruthlessly tests you, and then keeps you in its grip. When you stare true poverty in the face, walk among the ill-kept streets, and become accustomed to the rough nature of the city, you face so many challenges on the daily that the bullshit you brought with you in an emotional back pack end up falling straight off your back, and you just open your eyes and push forward because if you don’t, this city will wreck you without a shred of guilt.

I’ve loved my experience in Beijing, but the truth is, it’s been hard as hell. I’ve been tested more in these last three months than I ever have in my entire life. I want to tell people that this is a great experience and that they should do it, but I can’t. This is not for everyone. I you can’t go without, if you can’t take every day with a go-with-the-flow or whatever attitude, this place is not for you. China is a rough place for a spoiled foreigner. Everything is difficult. Everything is a challenge. The adventure isn’t in the sight-seeing, it’s in the getting by. It’s in the perilous navigation of everyday life.

I’m about three months into my time here. I spent the entire first month in training and finally got into my own classes in August. It was a tough month because I had to cover a lot of other people’s classes and my load was really intense for being new to the job, but I got by. I put my head down that month and really didn’t think about much, other than pushing forward.

I’ve been very fortunate to have met many good friends who helped me through the entry phase. If you ever come to Beijing, make friends. That’s the only way you survive. If you can’t ask for help, stay home. I’ve struggled with this because I like to be independent, but here you need help sometimes. Not speaking Chinese is a bitch. I’m trying to crash course learn, but it isn’t easy because, while Beijing is a Chinese city, there’s just enough English that you naturally use it as a crutch. I’m trying so hard to rid myself of that habit.

My experience here has been interrupted by an unexpected medical leave. I went to the doctor and was told I had a golf-ball sized cyst and that it had to come out immediately. Being my stubborn self, I tried to put it off, but I started having severe pain at work, so I knew it was time to bite the bullet and just go.

The problem with being sick in China is that scheduling procedures is a little tricky. I went around in circles with the insurance, hospital, and my own doctor until I just broke down and conscripted someone to make the appointment for me.

The Chines hospital, my friends, is not for the faint of heart. I went to the international department, the implication being that there would be English spoken, and yes there was, but not to the quality you’d like if you’re about to have an operation. There was so much me not knowing what the hell was going on. They made me do tons of tests, but they didn’t really tell me why. They didn’t tell me when I was having my operation. I just went where they led me, did what I was told, and wondered what the hell would happen next.

I wanted to get frustrated with the situation, but I just kept two things in mind. One: if I was back in America, there is no fucking way I could afford this operation. Two: I’m in China and I don’t speak their language. It’s my own fault that I’m having communication barriers. I can’t get mad because, unless I want to live in an aggressive state of denial. I knew what the hell I was getting myself into.

After a whole day of tests, they admitted me to the hospital, and I had no idea that I was being admitted. Somehow, I just ended up in a room with a band on my wrist (that said my name was Christ and not Christy. Hahaha!) and I was like… oh shit, what the hell is happening next?

The doctor comes in and insists that I am in a delicate condition and I can’t leave. Well, I hadn’t planned to stay, so I literally had nothing with me. They insisted I could not leave, so I had to argue with them that, fine I would stay if they insisted (not that it was at all necessary) but I needed to go home first. They decided to operate on me the next day, so I went home, got provisions, and came back.

I’ll spare everyone the details of the operation prep, because it was not pretty. If you want to know, just google laparoscopic cyst removal surgery, cause I am not about to write anything about that nasty bullshit. It was a pretty intense night, being alone in the hospital. I’m sure people would have come with me if I asked, but I hate making a fuss about things, and I just needed to be alone and figure it out.

The next day, I had the operation. I was so calm about it; I don’t even know how I did it. Everyone I tell about this freaks out when I say I was put under in China. I had a friend come with me because they won’t operate without someone else there. I told my friend to not let them pull the plug on me. She was impressed at how completely unaffected I seemed that I was about to get operated on. I haven’t lost my cool since I first got to China, and I promised myself that I was going to be strong after my first week. I kept my promise.

It was so weird because, rather than letting me walk to the operation room, they made me get on a bed, wrapped me up in blankets like a taco, and wheeled me across the hospital like I was a corpse. It was stupid in my opinion and everyone looked at me funny because I was a foreigner.

When I got to the operation room, it was kind of freaky because literally no one spoke a word of English. The anesthesiologist put the oxygen mask on me, but they didn’t have the oxygen on! So I was breathing nothing and tore it off. She, annoyed with me, shoved it back on me. Then, I guess she realized it wasn’t on, so she turned it on and I gasped for air, and I took this huge breath of straight inhalation anesthesia. I remember the sensation of my lungs burning as I was gone in a second.

When I woke up, I was coherent. I always come out of anesthesia so strong. I wasn’t groggy at all. I was complaining to the staff because they kept stabbing my artery for an oxygen sample. They missed 7 times, I am not kidding, before I screamed at them to leave me alone, because for the love of god, I can breathe. They gave me a shot of morphine to shut me up.

They had no idea what to do with me. All the other people in the recovery room were out and I was running my sassy mouth in broken Chinese. Eventually, they wheeled me back into the room. They had me hooked up to so many machines, it was so unnecessary. EKG, blood pressure, pulse checker, oxygen, some stuff I don’t understand, and an IV. I was stuck like that for 25 hours and I made it known that I was unhappy.

The hospital was so weird. The nurses always came to check on me in groups. Like, twelve nurses at a time! I have no idea why. They’d come take my temperature, then leave me with the thermometer for over an hour before they would take it. I literally have no idea why.

           I asked for some kind of pain medicine, because I had four incisions and could hardly move, but they were so insensitive. They wouldn’t even give me ibuprofen! Lucky I had some in my bag, but you’d think a hospital would be more sympathetic.

           I pressed the matter because I was seriously miserable and they got so fed up with me that a nurse came in and, without even asking me, just stabbed me in the leg with a shot of some painkiller. I helped for about 20 min before I finally got them to IV me some ibuprofen. Seriously! The Chinese hospital acts like no one has ever wanted pain medication before!

           I hated staying there. The staff was so profoundly unhelpful. I had to be proactive about insisting on getting food, else they’d have just let me starve to death. I stayed there two days and when it was done, I was so ready to leave.

           It’s not like it is back home. The doctor came in the day I was going to leave, literally tore my bandages off my incisions with so much force that I almost screamed, and then was like “go home and take a bath.” No after care instructions. No information on when to follow up. No notice of when I can go back to work. Nothing. So I just left. In an American hospital, they would have wheeled me out to a wheelchair and made sure someone took me home, I literally just got up and waddled out of the hospital, then hunted a cab down to take me home.

           My overall opinion of the hospital is that, if you need it, it isn’t awful, but do not expect any compassion and just suck it up, because it’s going to suck.

           I recovered well. I’ve been taking it easy the last week or so. Surgery in China is a bit of a mind fuck, but I think it’s given me some serious perspective on so many things. I just feel lucky, that’s all. Beijing might want me dead, but it’s been good to me. I would have probably had this cyst rupture if I was back home, because at least in China, you get tests back immediately, rather than having to go through our bullshit system where you have to wait weeks to interpret an ultrasound that can literally be read on the spot. If I’d had to wait that long, there is a serious chance that I would have had to deal with major internal bleeding. I really can’t complain about any of this, even though the whole thing was a complete cluster fuck.

           The really sad thing about this is that I had to come to China to get my health concerns addressed. Even with insurance, getting the appointments I needed were almost always damn near impossible back home. I can go see the doctor in such a timely manner here. It’s inexpensive. It’s usually decent care. Yeah, the hospital as a little shady, but my primary care is fantastic. What the hell is wrong with America that I feel more comfortable in a city that can’t figure out basic plumbing and electrical wiring getting my health addressed than I do back in the good old USA? These are the real questions.

           China has made me feel very fortunate. Whatever disdain I have for my current situation, it’s not nearly as bad as what the Chinese people deal with. I get exceptional coverage through my company, but the average Chinese person… I caught one glimpse of the Chinese side of the hospital when taking all my tests, and let’s just say it isn’t a place I will ever return to voluntarily.

           I’m one of the rich in this country, and I live like crap by American standards. This is the kind of perspective China has given me that I’m never going to lose. I just look at everything now and think: it’s really not that deep.