I spent the day in the emergency room yesterday. My time there reminded me how much I hate being in the ER. It’s an environment that can make you feel like you’re going crazy. The combination of all the wires, lines, IV tubes, incessant beeping, screaming and moaning patients, slamming doors and bed in which it’s impossible to get comfortable make it seem like you’re losing your mind. Add on top of that an IV anti-nausea medicine that they failed to warn me would make me want to jump out of my skin and hit the doors running, along with the fact that I was violently ill, and you’ve got a recipe for a whole lot of suck. Fortunately, I asked about the side effect of that particular medication. 25mg of diphenhydramine helped. I’m glad I said something.
There was a heroin addict behind the curtain next to mine going through withdrawals (I heard him disclose this to the nurse) and yelling to God (by name). This went on for hours. Having been through that experience, I finally spoke up and said, “It gets better.” I think that freaked him out because he stopped yelling after that. I think he thought God finally answered him. How disappointed is he gonna be when he learns that wasn’t the voice of God, but the voice of Shane? The first giveaway should have been the fact that God doesn’t sound like a 13-year-old boy.