Last Tuesday or Wednesday, can’t remember which day but definitely last week, I received several phone calls. At the time though I’d turn my phone to silent so I could write without interruptions. Didn’t realize anyone called and went on about my day after my pen adventure.
Around two o’clock I checked my phone, the message for voicemail blinked at me. No-No called me at least seven times and her work called once. Plenty of panicked messages were left by my daughter and one calm message from her store manager. Something about anxiety, a panic attack, and a possible heart attack, she’s only twenty-one, go figure.
Breathe in. Breath out. Roll my eyes. Here we go again. My daughter has tendencies toward hypochondria.
No-No had been taken to the ER.
I called her cell phone to actually speak with her. The conversation went something like this:
“Mom,” she said. I believe a gush of wind blew out of her mouth. “While I was at work, I started shaking. My heart pounded. Could hear it in my ears. Felt like I was going to throw up. Had this horrible chest pain and my neck hurts.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. Over exaggerating everything is something she does. At the age of two she discovered excuses not to pick up her toys, “my head hurts” or “my stomach hurts”. This followed her all through school, too. She got out of a lot of assignments by acting sick. The teachers felt sorry for her. I’m amazed she graduated.
“They say I’m dehydrated and have put an I.V. in me.” True. The girl doesn’t eat or drink enough. She believes she’s fat at one hundred twenty-two pounds.
“My neck hurts but they won’t look at it. And I can’t remember if I put a Tampon in this morning. I thought I felt a string when they had me pee in a cup. I think I might’ve have lost it up my va-hoo-ha. I don’t know. Are you coming?” How does one forget they’ve got a stuffing-stick up their vagina? I use the pads. My experience with the stuffing-stick hurt like a be-otch. Don’t use them. Won’t use them if they’re the last thing on earth to use when Mother Nature visits.
“When you’re finished, call me.” I know, I sounded like a mean heartless mother but it’s typical for her to go overboard with every thing. She sneezes one little sneeze and she’s got an automatic cold or some disease I’ve never heard of. One time she thought a mosquito bite had turned into a spot of flesh eating bacteria.
“But mom,I’m having a panic attack.” This is common for her when she believes she’s dying.
I hung up the phone before she could complain about something else.
Against my better judgment, I picked her up from the ER. She drove me nuts with her catatonic babble all the way home about her symptoms.
“My neck,” she said, and gagged, cupping her hand over her mouth. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Heard that about a thousand times before I pulled into the drive.
Once I stepped into the house, I said, “Call the chiropractor.”
The next day she went and found out one of her ribs had popped out of place. Costochondritis. All of her symptoms were conducive to what she’d been feeling. So that problem’s been solved. Though she played it to the hilt to keep from picking up after herself for about six to seven days. She laid in bed a lot. Moaned a lot. Found out she should’ve been moving around a little per the chiropractor.
As of this morning, the missing Tampon is still a mystery. Toxic shock syndrome hasn’t happened yet, although her palms itch when she thinks about it and has been taking her temperature a lot.
How does one forget about something like that? Wouldn’t you feel it?
That’s all for now folks.
Happy blogging, reading, and writing!!!
P.S. Like my hubby says “It’s all fodder for your novels.”