So after an hour of frustrated struggling, I managed to get on to my bed. During that time, my mom had called me half a dozen times, so I called her back and calmly told me that I feel screwed.
I kind of wish I didn’t say that, I could hear her blanching at the idea of me being so sick and essentially unable to move, but I needed to say something to someone (I would tell my sister, but she had already done so much).
So I managed to settle into the bed, feeling a bit accomplished that maybe the day was not going to be so bad.
But, half an hour later, the guy who I was staying with came in and asked how I was doing…and then my sister and her husband followed right behind him, saying that I should stay with them so they could take care of me.
I groaned internally ’cause I was so exhausted just getting to the bed.
Anyways, I agreed, ’cause I did need help, and so back down the five flights of stairs, this time with everyone helping me to climb down.
It was more or less uneventful until I tried crossing the threshold, where my foot gave way and I fell. It was such a miserable situation trying to get back up, with us maneuvering me so that I could finally get some kind of leverage to climb into the car. It was terrible, and random people off the street saw us and tried helping me.
That was what I remember of that night, people trying to help.
I went to a different hospital (actually I went to the first hospital to try and see if I could get checked in so that professional nurses could take care of me, they wouldn’t let me because I wasn’t sick enough to warrant hospitalization…it was a very weird, frustrating conversation)…I think I went to my sister’s home, but I couldn’t climb up her set of stairs either, again collapsing onto the street as my legs couldn’t hold me.
That is another thing I remember, my legs never able to keep me up.
The other hospital was just as unhelpful, after the X-Rays and MRI (again), we just waited…and waited…and waited, no one could help me, no one knew how to help me, and we had no idea who to turn to to get some help.
Eventually, we went back home (it was difficult, I collapsed again, but the hospital staff joined together to help me up into a gurney.
As we tried to retire for the night, I decided to be an asshat one more time and collapse before being able to approach the stairs to my sister’s apartment. This time, we called the ambulance who called members of the fire-brigade to haul my fat ass (I was too heavy for just two of them to help me up the narrow staircase) up those stairs and onto the only sofa that was left in the house.
Finally, at 4 a.m., the day was over with…and my journey had really begun.