So today I had a really blonde moment.
Really, really blonde.
I took my pain meds this morning while talking to Jack, who was complaining about being at his folks's place alone when we could still be in bed together. Without thinking about it, I took my diet pills 30 minutes later.
Why diet pills?
I did it without thinking.
Every two weeks I have this regiment of diet pills that I take, one every day because I aspire to be looking totally sexy when I get to New Orleans in October for the GayRomLit Retreat.
I usually mark it on my phone. But last month we were dealing with that shit with my brother and I forgot to mark it and today I was so blasted tired that I didn't even remember that I'd taken my pain meds and you're really not supposed to mix those pills together.
So when my body started flushing hot, my stomach started roiling and my hands started shaking? I knew that something bad had happened. I just happened to still be on the phone with Jack. He got really concerned and rushed over. By this point my sisters were freaking out and I was a little also.
Because I used to be an addict as a teen and because of that I have to be careful when it comes to medications and pills. I was rushed through the ER because I'm a Vet and I get "Speedy Care." But I hate for people to know how stupid I can be sometimes. So imagine how red my face got when the doctor asked me to tell him about what I'd been doing over the weekend and when I'd been taking.
Jack's face got really red. I mean REALLY red. And then the hospital psychiatrist came to ask me if I'd tried to commit suicide and I'd had to confess that no, I'd taken too many pills over the weekend because my new boyfriend and I had overdone it on the sex because it had been over a year since I'd last had sex and I just may have been too eager and not stopped even when my legs had swollen up. Then as the doctor had to ask, with the stupid hospital psychiatrist in the room, about why the strap-on that I was wearing and if I'd had sex today. So I was honest (it's a nasty little habit of mine), and told them that yes, I'd fucked my boyfriend this morning and he'd fucked me, and they'd looked at Jack with raised eyebrows and I told them that Jack was gay and then they looked at me.
And I cried. I fucking cried.
With these stupid tears streaming down my face I explained to the doctors about me being bigender and about my family's reaction and how great Jack was and about the friends that had walked away and the horrible, horrible emails I'd been getting from friends and family members since I'd come out and the wonderful online family I had and how I wasn't trying to kill myself, I loved the life that I had now, but I am a wuss when it comes to pain and I really did want to look sexy when I went to New Orleans and that was the only reason I was taking the diet pills.
Then I stopped crying and just kept sniffling. The doctors looked shock, Jack was holding my hand (I have no idea when he grabbed it) and I felt really embarrassed. So the psychiatrist told me that my emotions were normal, I was pretty much experiencing what others experience when they come out and don't have positive reactions. She cleared me, and the medical doctor flushed out my system. It was horrible.
Then they pumped me with fluids to re-hydrate me and sent me home. Jack brought me to his place, gave me a pair of his sweats, set me up on his couch and has sat on the other end watching me ever since.
I couldn't eat the pizza he ordered because it turned my stomach, so I had fruit and water. My face is still flushing hot, but I had a fun few hours laughing with other M/M authors on Twitter because our accounts got hacked (stupid Conservative Republicans-LOL), and I'm actually feeling better. Thankfully Jack is off of work tomorrow, although he has to take his brother to school, so I guess I'll sit around all day and let you all go off on me for mixing my meds and putting myself into the hospital. *Sigh*
But man am I glad I'm out of there.