Have you ever reached that state of boredom where nothing sounds appealing anymore? Not drinking, not crafting, not blogging, not standing on your head in the corner in a blanket fort of your own making? Well, that’s where I’ve been for the past few weeks especially at work where I’ve been forgoing all manner of activity in favor of staring blankly ahead with a slightly cross-eyed glaze. Of course, that doesn’t include the Thursday before last when Grasshoppah decided to shake things up for us…
It started like any other work day. I was slightly hung over, pounding an iced coffee, and silently cursing the inventor of overhead florescent lighting when Face IM’ed me to say, “Something’s wrong with Grasshoppah. Golden Delicious is on her way home from work to check on her.” [*New Character Alert*: Golden Delicious is the other roommate living with Grasshoppah and Face. She’s cute as a button but don’t let that fool you. She’s scrappier than a cornered possum]. Proceeding this news, I’d been taunting Grasshoppah for staying home from work with a Hangover of Unusual Proportions. For some perspective on the situation, consider that she and I used to pre-game during college with an entire bottle of whiskey. Since she hadn’t consumed anywhere near such epic quantities the night before, I felt justified in poking fun and saying phrases such as “Oh how the mighty are fallen.” And also, I’m an asshole with very little empathy.
Face continued with updates involving increasingly scary words such as “seizure” which killed my fun and made me immediately jump on the Concerned Friend Train. Around noon, unable to wait for more updates, I called Golden Delicious and found that they were no longer in the apartment. They were in the Emergency Room. That’s when I jumped off the Concerned Friend Train and quite literally into the Panicking Friend Taxi. I hauled ass out to the hospital where I was told they were running tests on her elsewhere in the building and that I would be alerted when she returned to her room at the ER.
I waited patiently for upwards of 6 minutes but at 7 minutes, I forgot how to control myself in front of strangers, returned to the Front Desk Girl and demanded to see Grasshoppah. My commendations go to Front Desk Girl for handling the situation with such calm and poise even after I said thing like, “Well, what tests is she undergoing? Blood tests or something else? What do you mean you don’t know? WELL IT MUST BE WRITTEN DOWN SOMEWHERE, RIGHT?!”
After my hissy fit, I returned to my seat in the waiting room until Golden Delicious popped out of a back room and ushered me in to see the patient who was lying in bed looking pale. The doctors came and went without giving any definitive answers which was incredibly frustrating but at least they generally assured us that she was in no immediate danger. On one visit, they ran some neurological tests which looked remarkably like the DUI tests they perform on Cops. Golden Delicious and I were eager to participate since we knew the right answers to questions like “Can you remember this list of words?” (YES!) Inspired by the demonstration we invented a few tests of our own, though she cut me off when I asked her to pull my finger.
Mostly, Grasshoppah just needed some moral support and amusing distraction, which we were more than happy to provide especially once I started looting the supply closet and finding containers labeled “E-Z Lube” and “Tourniquets.” There was also the obligatory Blowing-Up-A-Plastic-Glove-And-Giving-Everyone-The-Finger. Eventually though, we grew weary of my childish antics and began pondering what could be the trouble with Grasshoppah. She rattled off the symptoms again and I epiphanied right there while everyone was watching. It was so simple even the doctors had missed it. Grasshoppah was possessed by the devil. She was an unwilling host to an evil spirit that was preying on her soul and making her have uncontrolled body movements. NOT ON MY WATCH, BITCH. Unfortunately, the supply closet did not contain holy water, a Bible, or a priest and I knew she’d be pissed if I sprayed her with E-Z Lube and shouted “The power of Christ compels you!”
She was released a short while later and lined up a string of doctors visits for the following week, one of which came up with a promising explanation for her bizarre condition. An explanation even simpler than possession by the devil.
To Be Continued…
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