*disclaimer: this is a series of the events that took place when i was admitted to hospital. i wrote a journal of the visit and decided to share it with you. because it’s awesome. all or most spelling mistakes are intentional.*
YAY!!! I’m outta here.
middle-aged asian(?) lady. loves to tan. loves to git hrr harr did.
and i’m thinking of her voice sounding like Barney. y’know. the purple dinosaur.
add in the music on your own accord.
“so! are you gunna be able ta take care o’this on yer own?… at home?”
“yeah sure, we’ve worked it out. i got my PICC line in”
“ok shooer! but yer gunna have ta come in ta git thuh dressings changed. dahyulk!”
“what ever, i just wanna get the fuck out of here”
“ok! well, seeya later! hahaha yup!”
“alright, get me the fuck outta here! yeah.”
“well we’ll just check out your discharge orders and let’s get this last anti-biotics in ya”
“hey stu poo”
“alright! let’s get the fuck outta here!”
“hey, don’t swear. i’ll find out if you can get out.”
“i can, just get me outta here, right now!”
“yaaa, yaaa, yaaa…”
so cam’s driving me around. i don’t remember exactly how we got here. is this his musical partneroo? we’re going to the medicentre. that’s ok. maybe they can help me out. hey oh shit i remember i got some crime to fess up to. “it’ll only be a fine” then why am i standing in a prison yard? it’s getting dark and more people are showing up. the usuals are now getting linked up again. and i’m a target. i didn’t do anything horrible. they want to fuck me up for sure. and then a confrontation. and who’s this? big guy helps me out. fuckin throws a guy 30 feet into a fuckin car. awesome! now he’s not gonna help me forever. this is gonna suck.
yawn. it must be 11
let’s get goin!
“chaney what’s up?”
“well, you gettin ready to get out of here?”
“yes, what’s up?”
“well none of the tests we’re positive, so we’re going to send you home with the anti-biotics for, um, 4 weeks…”
“hey! so how did the TB test go?”
“well let’s look at the arm”
“it looks fine, but we’ll have to wait til 3 anyway”
“see ya later”
“yup see ya stuart, get better, hey”
“what are they talking about?”
“we’ll be back to take you home at 3”
“what, no, mum? no no i wanna go home now!”
this is bullshit
more sleep i guess
let’s get a shower and get the fuck outta here.
or maybe a smoke first
not in the common room…
maybe he went for lunch
i’ll just wait at the elevator.
“how’s it goin?”
“i thought i’d find you and we could go for a smoke”
“well you found me, but i just went out. i came to get you earlier but you were ‘sleep”
“well see ya later”
“yeah, i guess”
alright now it’s shower time
is that drew?
“hey, what the hell, you’re here and with a camera”
“yes i am”
you should’ve seen the commotion. all the nurses in the main 2nd floor lobby were creepin in looking worried.
“you can’t just be pointin that around”
“yeah, i know. just at you”
“alright well let’s go to my room and i’ll tell you all about the stuff”
“so how did you find out i was here?”
“oh man, so some random blonde chick came up to me on the street, and was like, drew, stu’s in the hospital, he needs you to bring your camera to video an interview about his go-kart accident, it’s crazy i know but he’s been trying to get a hold of you for a week since he got here”
“wait, what random blonde chick”
“i don’t know, i didn’t recognize her”
so, i was asked to act in a movie this kid is making in vancouver and i’m supposed to play a retired champion go-kart racer who’s now wheel-chair bound because of a horrible accident. i figured i had no real visual example of my acting experience so i thought i would make a video audition of the character i would be acting as. the hospital was a great opportunity.
“mom where’s my phone” took that opportunity away.
drew said he wanted to do a documentary on relationships. what a great place to do that video as well. well, it was all lost and ruined.
don’t get me wrong. it’s not my mom’s fault she didn’t get me my phone. it died the day i was admitted. if it wasn’t dead i wouldn’t have had her try and retrieve my charger. goddammit.
who’m i fuckin kidding? i still blame her. i asked her every fucking day for it
so we taped some stuff about me talking bullshit
“you got a smoke?”
“yeah i got one”
“man, get me outta here”
“let’s get you in this wheel chair”
first smoke since admittance…
and i remember carrie worryin about my withdrawal.
so we found a spot near the doctor’s lounge exit and filmed more shit-talking.
“thanks for the smoke”
“no worries, dude”
it’s about time to go.
TB test, the rest, and we get ‘n gone
i just had a shower at home yay
i never want to go to the hospital again, ever. fuck that place.