Food Trip

I just woke up.  I am in a hospital bed, tied to an IV, wearing my two strands of pearls, one black one white and a horrible side tied hospital gown.  I feel like i have just been given the keys to a new car.  She should run i'm told.  She is all yours.  She is a 41 year old judo black belt player I've been told.

The last I remember I had been searching...  I had been searching for someone with an answer for my slipping health.  I knew I would I find the person who would lead me to the person with the information that i needed.  I knew I would recognize them, or the information, so I just kept searching, asking, I am looking for... a doctor maybe?  Some information instructions?  A key?  I didn't know what but i always new I was not going to die yet.   Apparently I was one day away from my death.  I woke up out of a Benadrilled night of sleep nervous to feel if my legs were going to work, they moved, the next I checked was my grip, i squeezed my fist, still working i reach for my phone.  There is a message from my "doctor".  She had read my text from the night before and left me a message.  I rub my eyes and realize I have missed the morning again with my boys, it is 8:30, Vince my husband has taken Geordie to school and i hit speaker lay my head down and listen.  "Janna, this is Dr. Wagon, I just read your test results, you need to go to the hospital right away, your thyroid is over 100 and your sodium is 118" she says in an uncharacteristicly stressed out voice.  I sit up.  I see Vince pulling in the driveway walking into the house.   He comes into the bedroom and I relay the news.  "OK"  He says in a totally confident, and relieved voice.  "Lets go."  I grab my Arbonne bag of beauty products, my purse with long fantastic black leather fringe and my black and white pearls the way a woman might grab her holy rosery.  I am told to just go strait to the 5th floor of the hospital they are expecting me.  I felt like a stray dog picked up off the street..  I see a skinny man standing at the foot of my bed, "you belong to me now, you are going to be ok.  I've read your report and I know who you belong to.   He will now be my doctor you will meet him soon, he is an endocrinologist.  Ahhh..  I nod.  Yes.  I bet he holds my key.  I bet he is glad to have me.  The tall and skinny man sits now next to me in my hospital bed.  "Tell me your story he says."  "I am an athlete" I answer.  I sit in a 98 pound atrophied athletic body.  I am supposed to be a Judo fighter.  I now vaugly recall telling him.  I remember him clearly saying, "I will get you back on the mat in two weeks, take my hand, take my deal", you had me at "2 weeks back on the mat" I think.  I take the deal.

 

You see?  I have lost my belief in the "American Medical Association" or so it is called to some, last I had heard our president had sold them to Monsanto, they had been leading me astray, letting me down, almost never impressing me, my entire life.  I had sworn them off, quit playing for their team, I had joined forces with the other side months ago by going "green" living off the medical grid.  I had made it just 5 months prior.  But I took the deal again, in full trust and full belief.  I took the deal.

 

Next I know he is sitting at the foot of my bed now.  "You 'greenys' he says with steryotyping eyes, you think you can survive without us but you can't.  You idiots with your kelp pills you don't know what you are doing and you almost killed yourself".  "No.  You doctors only get your information from drug companies" I snap back.  "Thats not true! He says with previous accusations around him, thats not me, thats what the media has been saying about us and its not true".  "Its not?  I say?--then don't talk to me that way" I begin to teach him.  I won't talk to your that way and you won't talk to ME that way.  Your steryotype is over here," I hold my right hand up in a fist, my steriotype is over here," I hold my left hand up, we are both here and I interlace my fingers.  "We are here" I reiterate.  "working together" I assure him.

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