Roofied, man.

Song of the day: “I got a feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas. A tad boring to have stuck in your head.

Right. Where to start? Can I just say, for the record, that the past couple of days were downright, well, taxing. First let me just say it, because I can still hardly believe it, okay, here goes: I…Got…Roofied!!! There. I’ve said it. Roofied. Now, I don’t know what I got, could have been something that was called differently, but let’s just say I was pretty out of it.

So how did it happen…well, I think I’ll have to go back all the way to Saturday, because it was of that that I had no clue that something was wrong, until I was almost flat on my face at the market.

Saturday was my procedure at the clinic, and can I just say for one moment that the surgeon made true the old saying that surgeons are butchers…He, in this case, in behavior and appearance. I’m sorry, but that’s how it came across. He was brusque, he and his meaty assistant ushering me toward the table where I was to lie down flat on my stomach so they could get cracking. First came the injections…the needle too weak, or my skin too tough (take your pick) making it two “wrong” shots before he got it right. Ouch. He made some attempts at conversation, but his English was worse than my Spanish and his bedside manner in shoving my head this way and that, nose pressed painfully into the table, nothing to write home about. Finally I asked if I could take out the padding in the middle of the “bed” allowing me to stick out my nose at least. Crikey, that felt weird. First there was the cutting bit, I think they used both scalpel and scissors on the darn cyst. Then there was the clamps that kept the skin open, metal clanking onto my skull, I tell ya, followed by stitches that literally lifted my head off the table. Jeez. I know that they work under the presumption of it being painless due to the injection, but seriously, use some common sense. It’s only skin, not plastic. Stuff bruises under abuse, for crying out loud.
But anyway, they were done in less than fifteen minutes, and I was told to get up and head for the reception area to arrange for another appointment two weeks later, so I could hear what the test results of the cyst were. Cue in the small bottle with liquid and a gross piece of skin floating in it. I promptly got nauseous.
I took a picture for the blog, arranged for the new appointment and headed out to where big brother (he drove me there) was waiting for me. We talked a moment, and everything around me got a little “spinny” if ya know what I mean. So, I decided, what the heck, I’m going back in to ask if that was normal.
Other customers were gathered around the desk, and I gesticulated over the head of a pregnant lady that I would like to speak to the doctor. The receptionist looked at me funny and said that the doc would be busy for a few minutes and asked me what I wanted to ask. So yeah, I made the universal gesture of spinning my finger in the air and saying I wasn’t feeling too well. The woman promptly jumped to her feet and basically pushed me into a little side room.
Before I knew it, she had me flat on a table, with this little stool propped under my legs. Weird to feel like the room is spinning, and yet not seeing it, right?
A minute later the doctor came bustling in, asking some questions about breakfast, and whether I lost a lot of weight, and then telling me that it was perfectly normal…would have been nice if he had told me that before hand. *snort*

But anyway, after a minute or two I had enough of it, got up…which had the receptionist rush forward from fear that I’d pass out on her, or something (she was nice, though, very caring) which I didn’t. I can be a tough hombre when I put my mind to it, thank you very much.

So once outside, big brother was waiting for me once more, and we walked back to the car, where I told him of the grand fun of what had happened inside. *sigh*

Once we got home, I got the regale folks inside with my story as well, at which point it was time to head on down into the yard for some relaxing time watering plantsies. Nothing centers you quite as well as watering plants, I tell you.

That done, I headed to the kitchen and did some experimenting with my omelet recipe. If I’m going to join in on the competition, I better not have made my last omelet seventeen years ago. *sigh* Let’s just say I’m not the biggest egg fan…but it worked out well, and my volunteers enjoyed it. *phew* Big relief that.

Big brother and I headed for town to get some groceries.
Next, since I wasn’t worth all that much anyway, I cooked supper (veggies and potatoes with a wonderful herbal sauce) and a potato salad for Sunday market day. Wasn’t in the mood to do anything more complicated than that, so since big brother and I had to head to town anyway, I figured we might as well get some French bread to go with the salad.

Tried to take a nap while Cousin Ed, Grandpa and Big Brother loaded the car for the market, but my phone woke me up, reminding me why I’d promised myself not to keep my phone with me during naps, since I didn’t manage to drop off afterward.
Knight II was oddly subdued during the day, and by the time I had done some writing for the day, I found him in my room with a 104.9 fever and an ear that was swollen triple its size…and that while it had been slowly getting better. He was in a lot of pain, so I decided not to wait for morning, and headed straight for the vet who decided to immediately operate. We could come pick him up in the morning.

It was strange to sleep without Knight II’s bones ramming into my spine, and whenever I woke (which was often) I remembered why he wasn’t there.
Despite the lack of sleep, I wasn’t doing bad the next morning. My head hurt a little, but the ibuprofen had done its job during the night, allowing me to go through the morning rituals to be done on time for our departure.

The trip toward the market went without effort, only for us to arrive to somewhat horrid winds. Seriously, we spent about two hours trying to set up, but everything kept blowing away, until we decided to just put most of everything on the ground, rather than risk flying missiles. *sigh*
At twelve, as agreed, I headed to the restaurant early and got to writing. Didn’t go bad either. With three cups of coffee (a short interruption when Cousin Ed called me to come look at a great Dane that was visiting. Gawd, he was gorgeous. I had to hug him) I managed to write nine solid pages. I had some seriously weird thoughts during the session, a slight discomfort even, and at some point, after having been gone from my table, I thought it hadn’t been smart to leave my stuff unattended. (Boy did that turn out to be true!) Once done, I cleaned up my mess, packed up the computer and went to out to see if there were sales. Nope. Only fifty cents on something teeny. We chortled about it a little, seeing as it was no big surprise, considering there were hardly any people around. We were just about to start packing up a little early, when the first wave hit me. The world spin, and I had to sit down fast or else lose it. At the time I considered two possible options for the cause. Either something with my head, or I hadn’t eaten enough. I took some cookies and tried again. Still dizzy, nauseous and my head hurt like the dickens. And it gradually got worse to, an odd giddiness coming over me, even as my outer extremities became colder and colder. Nausea got so bad I headed for the bathroom to vomit. Not much, but something got out, and I felt marginally better. I did have this odd sensation, almost like being drunk, you know, which was even weirder.
We decided that it would be smarter for cousin Ed to drive home, and I just barely made it without hurling again. Seriously, I have never felt that awful in my life. It came in waves, ya know. First a few stabs in my head, then a dizzy spell, followed by nausea, only to end in some serious shivers that had me literally fall in bed once I got home.
Knight II was there waiting for me, since big brother picked him up that morning. (The friggin’ dog had already taking off his bandages, and broke the first part of his cone. He deliberately starts walking into walls, I tell ya.
But anyway. I wrapped myself around him and pulled the blankets over both of us trying to stay warm. It didn’t work, my toes and fingers were the worst and those weird waves of shivers…or rib cramps kept keeping me awake…along with those coffees, seriously, there was so much caffeine in my body, I was crawling the walls underneath the numbing sensation of whatever the heck was bothering me.

I came to the carport in an attempt to warm myself on the stove, only to hear that right after we got home something turned out to be wrong with tenant. Neither Big brother or Grandpa had noticed anything peculiar during the day, her sudden sickness was way sudden. She was in her chair with her eyes closed, moving back and forth as if in trance, and didn’t respond to anything anyone said.
I didn’t get a lot of it, seeing as I was pretty out of it too, but I did manage to go up there after caregiver phoned for a doctor, and at his insistence an ambulance. First fear with stroke folks is another one, so they weren’t taking any risks.
By that time I was starting to get pretty bad, the “waves” of symptoms coming faster and stronger, in such a way that mom, who’d come up to check on tenant, and keep her company until the ambulance arrived, decided to ship me off to the doctor’s office in the village.
We arrived there shortly, with me draped over the back seat, wondering how the heck I was going to make it up to the door, elevator and then the office. Seriously, my ribs were starting to hurt from the shivers, and that dizziness made the world tilt under my feet. Of course I did make it, and I slouched in a seat there, pale, my hair a mess, and sagged out like a recalcitrant teenager. We talked a bit, he took my blood pressure, checked for fever (both fine) to which he concluded a stomach flu, most likely. Rooooooight!!! Jeez. Spare me from doctors. I’ve had the flu, and this wasn’t it.
Anyway, he prescribed me some anti nausea medication, and told me to pack up warm, crawl under my blankets and prepare for several days of being sick. *sigh*

We went home, where I ate some soup with crackers, and after an hour or so, started to feel marginally better. The wave of the sequence was still happening, but at a slower pace, which was a relief.

It was about two hours after our return that my strange thought at the restaurant popped up in my mind. That is when a suspicion started to niggle. My symptoms, the impression of the flu…I’d heard it before, and most of it had to do with date rape drugs (did some research on that a while ago for a book). And yep, I found several sites that basically described all my symptoms, except for exhaustion…which I dismissed in reference to those potent three coffees that still buzzed through my system with a vengeance, despite me feeling incredibly tired and tipsy.
Talked with the doctor, who didn’t like being countered by a different theory, but even he had to admit that however improbable, it did fit. The conversation got finished on us seeing whether or not I was worse or better in the morning.

I slept through most of the night…after lying awake ‘till ‘bout three in the morning. The moment I felt the caffeine high disappear from my system, I was off into dream-land I tell ya, and didn’t wake until nine thirty this morning. *sigh*

Though there were still some of the symptoms, I was feeling remarkably better and went through the motions of the morning with little trouble. After dog food I even did a short kick boxing session . The way I figure GHB is a depressant, so pumping in some adrenaline couldn’t do much wrong. Felt even better after that. Yay.

Tenant will be staying at the hospital for a bit. They haven’t figured out what happened yet, but at least it wasn’t another stroke. She asked if we could contact her family for her, which I did, of course. We had planned to, but it is better to do it when she asks.

Watered the plants again, (sun was remarkably warm) this afternoon, then worked in the kitchen on a second omelet experience, which was different, but nice regardless. Around four in the afternoon, after I prepared soup for supper, I was basically feeling like myself again, which made heading out to pick up a donation in town a lot less of an effort.
After having loaded up the car, big brother and I headed for the village where we had an appointment for Knight II’s ear checkup. Poor darling is filled with stitches and a collar he absolutely hates.
The Vet said not to mind the lack of bandage. As long as he’s not oozing all over the place it’s okay that he isn’t covered up. We tried at her place, but within one minute he had the bandage of anyway, the stupid twat! I’m to watch him, but otherwise just leave it alone…took two spare cones, because I’ll be surprised if this one makes it another day.

Had soup. Did some more writing to add to the few I did this morning, but ended up working on a letter we’ve been putting together for sending to publishers in the near future. Didn’t have much time, there was this blog to write after all.

So what you think of that, eh? Roofied? Me? Weird. Absolutely friggin’ weird.
Well. I’m off to bed.