Yep...back. For those of you who didn't know, I was gone. In the hospital. I had this whole great long explanation typed out too but then my computer got frazzy and killed it. So I typed it again. And my computer ate it again. And you know I'm long winded so you know that sucks. So here's the short butchered version:

On Sunday the 18th I had a severe asthma attack in response to some mold in the pancake mix I used that morning. My chest started closing up and my inhaler wouldn't work, so I woke my brother and asked him to call mom and get her to come home because I wasn't in a state to drive. I guess he went and carried me to the neighbor, Mr. Gabriel...but I'm not sure because I started to black out and all I remember is this pair of really strong arms carrying me.

I heard Elvis (seriously) and knew that wherever I was going, I had to go the other way.

I woke up in the hospital on Tuesday (is it Tuesday??? I'm not sure still...) and was freaked out because there were so many people around me and there was this huge ass tube down my throat (for those who care, it was blue). They told me that I had had an asthma attack, that Mr. Gabriel had gotten me to the hospital and made the usually 20 minute trip in 8 (and left my brother at home) and that my lungs had collapsed and they had had to put tubes in my lungs and I had been in a medically induced coma and, oh yeah, I had been dead there for a sec. Later that day, they pulled the tube out of my throat and told me not to talk to much. Yeah right. I talked A LOT. And made bad Star Trek/Borg jokes.

Travis said that even though I was knocked out and assimilated, he thought I was beautiful. (Okay, everyone now: "awwwww")

They gave me a lot, and I mean A LOT of meds.

And, oh yeah, I was in ICU.

On Friday, they pulled the tubes out and stitched me up. BUT GAVE ME NO PAINKILLERS OR ANESTHESIA BEFORE HAND--WTF?! And when they pulled the tubes out it made weird noises. And then I was moved out of ICU into a room with a door (thank GOD!) but then they started giving me less drugs (damn....)

I was released on Sunday, but still can't return to school this week and I can't drive myself (my decision, not theirs...also our car is broken again, so there is only one vehicle between me and my mom and, technically, my brother but he doesn't drive)

And now I am sitting at home all bored and watching Star Trek at all hours. Oh and I can't wear a bra because of where my stitches are located. OH AND ONE OF THE NURSES WHO TAPED ME UP AFTER THEY PUT THE STITCHES IN PUT THE MEDICAL TAPE RIGHT ACROSS MY NIPPLE. So that's gonna suck when I finally get the nerve up to change my dressings.

But sigh....I'm not going to finish NaNo this year now...and I had been doing so well...BUT I AM JUST SO GLAD TO BE ALIVE THAT I DON'T GIVE A MAD HOOT.

But yeah...it was just this combination of a bunch of really lucky circumstances, because EVERYTHING happened at just the right moment. Normally, my brother won't get up at all. He sleeps like a dead person--a dead person who is content to NOT walk our world in the afterlife. So the simple fact that he got up when I just opened his door and gasped out, "Chaney I can't breathe" is a miracle in itself. I mean, MY BROTHER SAVED MY LIFE. He acted quickly, and did everything right. When mom didn't answer her phone right away, he ran over to the neighbor's and got them. When I couldn't walk he carried me. I'll never take him for granted again. Okay, I will, but I will also always be grateful he's there for me to hate, y'know? In school, they always tell kids growing up, that if anything EVER goes wrong, to call 911. He didn't. He ran over to the Gabriel's. Which, in itself is amazing.

The Gabriel family is religious and go to church every Sunday come hail, sleet, snow, or apocalypse. However, that Sunday, Mr. Gabriel decided to stay home because he thought that he might feel a cold coming on. He had changed his mind, and was climbing into his vehicle, which was already turned on, when my brother came out carrying me. He sped off, leaving my brother, who had gone back to close the house door, behind. He got me to the hospital in 8 minutes, when it usually takes 20, and didn't run one red light. He had green lights all the way.

By the time I got to the hospital, I was blue and my lungs had collapsed. I've been told that they considered me dead at that point. But for some reason, there was a surgeon walking by with a tube in his pocket, and he was able to stick it down my throat and breathe for me all the way down to whatever room they took me to to fix me up.

It just...doesn't feel real, y'know?

And now Christmas is right around the corner and finals are coming even sooner than that.

#

On a much, much, much happier note, I've been offered a job at a magic book store. Ah, but that later....I'm tired.