Diary of a Hospital Honeymoon

Day 1-

ER is so cool! I feel like I’m in a TV show. Any minute a crash cart will go flying by and a miraculous life will be saved. Gosh, Jason sure looks uncomfortable on that stretcher bed. Maybe, I should hold his hand. It’s so neat when he calls me his wife. That’s me! Now they are admitting him for a night. Oh boy, that sounds scary. But how bad could ONE night be? Surely, they will have it all figured out by tomorrow. This will be fun! I’ll make it fun. Ohhhhh, look at our room. It’s nice. It has three windows with nice wood blinds and we have a tree view. Cool! The nurse gave me pillows and blankets for my fold out chair bed. I’m such a good wife to sleep next my hubby even in the hospital. My poor honey. What a crazy honeymoon, we will always remember this.

Day 2-

Luckily someone came by to bring me hot food. Every time I leave the room to pee or get coffee a doctor comes by and I miss what they say. I’m determined to never leave or shower again. That bed was hard and makes terrible sounds when I turn over. Someone must have turned on the lights and came in the room almost every hour. Uuuggh. My poor husband. I am so glad we are married so I can be by his side. They call us the newlyweds and tease that they have to knock before they enter our room. Isn’t that cute? The dumb doctors still don’t know anything. It’s Friday and they are ready for the weekend. They can’t even tell us when we might be able to leave. Another night camping for us, I should pick up some more trail mix the next vending machine run. I’ll have to hurry so I don’t miss a doctor or a nurse. Why don’t they know what’s wrong yet? Maybe the test Monday will give us answers. I can totally do this wait it out thing. We took vows people.

Day 3-

Jason was up all night going to the bathroom. Looks like the diuretics kicked in. I totally slept through the whole thing on my chair bed. I only woke up twice when they took vitals and turned on the lights. I’m getting really good about being able to sleep through those. He said I was snoring. I guess he is a little grumpy from not having a lot of sleep. Gee. At least he is looking better and is not as puffy. I was afraid they’d have to cut the new wedding ring off. Now, that would be sad. I am really ready for him to be better. I was looking forward to the movies this weekend. I guess he wasn’t faking it last week when he was complaining of feeling bad. Heck, we just didn’t have time to be sick in the middle of wedding planning. My sister and her husband came back up and I sure had a nice visit away from the hospital. I didn’t even miss anything. How cool is that? I loved being treated to lunch and dinner. Jason has been feeling nauseated. I’m not sure if it’s his mystery illness or the hospital food. I think that hospital food is real awful. Sure looks it. The doctors still know NOTHING. What a waste of medical school. So glad I said I DO before we got here. I just love being his wife.

Day 4 –

Holy crap, my back huuurts. Ow that &*(@# bed. That’s not a bed, it’s a back twisting torture device. And how many times do they have to check him at night? I mean really? Don’t they have monitors they can watch? And do they have to be so loud in the hall? It sounded like a party. Gah. I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in four days. FOUR. I stole some of the bath baby wipes to “freshen” up. I don’t think anyone will notice. I wish I could have warmed them up like they did for him. Today is the day Jason has to get up and walk the hall. We are calling it our honeymoon stroll. Aww. Just like the beach (sorta).

My new husband in all his hospital gown hotness.

It’s Sunday, so of course, no one knows what is wrong with him yet. The fill-in doctors come by to check-in. They just mark their visit in the books. They don’t do anything. Jason’s feet touch the end of the bed. I think he is too big for it. It sure doesn’t look comfortable. Not looking forward to laying in the torture device tonight. I have a permanent crick in my lower back left side now. Supposedly, there are tests in the morning but they can’t say for sure since the doc did not order them before he was off for the weekend. What kind of hospital is this? I am soooo ready to go home. This wifely thing is hard.

Day 5-

I have to sit down like an old person. My back is cracked. I must leave here and get Tylenol soon. Ouch. Maybe they will do the test and we can go home. Jason looks worse. I think this hospital made him sicker. I held his hand and knocked his IV astray. It caused bleeding. Oh gee. I didn’t mean to. This is sooo not fun anymore. I cried and felt very selfish. I am just soooo tired of not doing anything. It’s like there is no time here. It’s the same time every day. The only change is the nurses. I found the cafeteria. I am afraid to eat there after seeing Jason’s food and stuck with the vending machines again. Everyone is working so I ran out for hot food while Jason was taken for a CT scan on his head.The doctors decided not to do the heart cath test they prepared us for. Apparently, they made Jason dehydrated with all the diuretics. He lost 11 liters of fluid and dried out his kidneys. Now, he can’t tolerate the dye. Two days ago it was a must do. Now, he doesn’t need it. I hate this place! They can just say whatever they want and they STILL don’t know what is wrong with him. Looks like an extended honeymoon for us. Woo! I cleaned the room and organized our belongings. I used a bath wipe to clean my phone and wipe off his rolling tray. This place is making me weird crazy. But we are making newlywed memories. P.S. I might be committed soon…….

Happy honeymoon sweetie!

To be continued……

My Blog Reviewed

My dear blog friend, and creator of Real Bloggers United Group, on Blog Catalog, who is a Southern Woman who Rambles, Laura Avery, has graciously reviewed my blog in her newest blog creation, The Magnolia Blossom Review.

I value her support and I really appreciate her taking the time to give me some great feedback. Please do drop by, and see what she has to say. I am extremely honored by her thoughtfulness and kind words.

Review: Living, Loving, Laughing.

My Hooptie Ride

I must admit…I don’t name my cars. I never have. Even when I got a car on my 16th birthday. It was a sweet silver Mercury Cougar 1984.  Many called it the silver bullet, but that wasn’t its name, not by me anyway. It was just my car that I dinged wrecked too many times to count.

Since then, I’ve had a red Eagle Talon, a green Neon, a white Plymouth Breeze, and a champagne Nissan Pathfinder (10yrs old). I liked all my cars. I did. I just wasn’t creative enough to name them or anything. Maybe I didn’t want to get too attached. I mean, one day, they would become an old used up trade in never seen from again.

But my car now? Well, I love it. It’s a Black Toyota Matrix, after almost five years it has a name. Hooptie.  I loooove my hooptie ride. It’s just the right size. It has seen me through thick and thin and many, many moves. My baby even carried a full size filing cabinet, my dogs, kids, co-workers and family. It gets mistaken for an SUV all the time even though it’s only a Toyota Corolla with a hatchback. It’s amazing how much I can pack in there. It’s even good on gas.

The only problem it had? The hubcaps. I kept losing them. Believe me it’s not pretty. Missing a hubcap is like going without shoes and having ugly feet. I kept replacing them with the original factory ones, but eventually another would fall off and they would get harder and harder to find at a cheap price (unbroken that is). I finally replaced them with metal fitting hubcaps. These were the best I could do picking a style.

It took me a bit to get used to them but it was better than shelling out bucks for rims. It was still my beloved. Then, I noticed my poor (plastic) hubcaps were missing a bolt. A fake bolt at that. The horror!

Now according to urban dictionary – a hooptie is a clunker. I don’t think my ride is a clunker by any means, but definitely the hubcaps were hooptie. I guess that fits in a way, but really it’s a very nice car. Hooptie just became my endearing term for a car that I’ve grown attached to and been through many miles with in the last five years.

As Sydney approaches sixteen (FIVE DAYS), we had to figure out what wheels she would drive. I didn’t want to buy her a “true” hooptie unless that’s what she really wanted and definitely not a new car. NO WAY. She needed a first car that was reliable but not a lot of money. The only thing that made sense was to give her my car (almost paid for) and I would get a new(er) car. Of course she thinks THAT’S totally unfair. I get a new car and she gets a hooptie?

Uh, hello, I’m the MOM here. Now her getting a MOM car and not a teenage car, that I can understand. So I promised her she could pick out new rims and a new stereo. That way my car would be “her” car. During my time off I went to get the tires rotated since the steering wheel vibrated my arms off going 60 on the freeway. Lo and behold the tires were bad. Totally worn out and bald – which is why it shook – and I needed new tires. It seemed a good time for Sydney to pick out rims even though she won’t officially have the car until she returns from Mississippi this summer.

We paged through a large catalog to select the rims and tires. Her choice. Whatever she wanted. I think she did a good job considering she is a girl and neither of us know anything about cars. Now what I forgot was that I would be the driver of a VERY teenage car for the rest of the summer.  Oops.

Hey, how would you like to meet my new ride……introducing my pimped out hooptie with new bling to rank it as a G ride. Holla!

Sick, I know (as in crazy, cool). I get a lot of looks and even had someone trying to race me last night. Yeah, I’m poppin’. Look out, here comes the old lady in a Hooptie ride!

Thanks kid, I can’t wait to get my booming stereo. Word out.

Arrivederci, Italiano!

Penultimate Italiano la sera. *Thank you, Jason for my word of the day, that I USED in a sentence. See ——–> used in a sentence*

Penultimate – next to last class.

I had my penultimate Italian conversation class last night. It was bittersweet. What a wonderful adventure the last six weeks has been, I’d love to tell you all about it. I promise to speak mostly inglese. *deal with it spell checker* Sorry ENGLISH. Ahem.

Io amore Italia. I LOVE ITALY. If I didn’t know before, maybe I wasn’t sure, or maybe I was too scared to commit. Well, I am out of the closet now. I absolutely LOVE this country, this culture, this language. I sit in class, soaking it up. It settles into my bones. It tells me – I belong here – I am your heritage and where you originated from.

Il nonno – my grandfather – was raised in Italy. He grew up in Northern part. He came to the United States a young man. He married a French woman named Dorotha. They had my mom. Growing up I proudly pronounced, I am a quarter French and a quarter Italian. Named after my Uncle Angel. My Italian heritage is my birthright. It means everything to me. *my looks favor the French side*

My Papa Jimmy passed away when I was 16 yrs old. I have said – all my life – he is my guardian Angel. How do I know this? Well, during my party days, there were several many mornings when I woke up after drinking heavily and had no idea, how I drove from town to my mom’s house (8 miles away). No idea. Except that he was with me. He guided me safely home.

When I attempted my first garden, with my mom’s help, I had a variety of beautiful flowers. I had all kinds. The next spring what came up abundantly, Zinnias, which happen to be my Papa’s favorite flower. He used to throw Zinnia seeds all over his garden and they would come up everywhere. That is what happened to me, without planting a single one, they came up everywhere, all different colors. They grew as tall as my chest. It was incredible!


And now, as I finish six weeks of classes, two times a week, two hours at a session. It sinks in. My Papa. My Papa got me in Italiano. His heritage put in the desiderare. He is beaming and calling me to Italy. I yearn to go.

My favorite part of the class? The videos of Italy. The different cities, landscapes, history – oh my gosh, the history –  I was never interested in history until this class. The richness of this country is breathtaking. With it’s astounding contrasts, a Roman Empire that changed the world, crescent-shaped coastal cities, tarnished splendor filled with art.  Art and majesty that distinguish this country from many others. I am beyond impressed.

I took Italian because I was interested in where my Papa came from, because I wanted to know about our families culture. I ended up with more than I ever thought possible. A place in my heart filled by the love I have for this country. Did I learn to speak fluent Italian? HA. No. I could get by. My instructor was wonderful. He was native Italian, cute as a button, with an adorable accent. He had us doing a lot of Italian two conversations. He earnestly wanted us to learn as much as we could. Many of the students were actually going to Italy this spring. *GOING to Italy, whimper*

Alas, as much as I love all things Italia, I am NOT crazy about taking classes and studying. Blech. I knew there was a reason I didn’t go to college. *I applaud all of you that do it. You have my utmost respect, utmost*

I hope to take Italian two this Spring. I just need a class break, a looooong fall break, if you will. In the meantime, I will continue to study my book. I will keep trying to make my tongue say the words right. In my head and in my ear I understand, but when I speak out loud, it’s all wrong. *practice, practice*


Possibly, I will convince my mom she NEEDS to take me to Italy with her. I already know everything I need to travel with her.

“Quanto costa?” How much is it?

“Dov’e il bagno?” Where is the bathroom?

“Vorrei spaghetti.” I would like spaghetti. (oh wait, that’s for me, whoops)

Good-bye Italian! It was so nice to meet you, know you, revere you. I can’t wait to see you again. Piacere! Molto lieto!
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Fall Italiano class 2009