Coming Off The Turn

Igor could not get sleep last night.

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I'm working on my laptop, trying to finish a post. I really don't want to be bothered, but Igor has to call my name over and over again. WHAT??!! I shout to him. "I don't feel good, Hobobob." What? "I feel like my heart is running, my arms and legs are tingling, I can't breathe." Sounds like you're having a panic attack. John is awake too and agrees with me. He sounds like I feel almost once a month. "I think I got the wrong medicine from the nurses." Are you sure about that? Didn't you look at what they were giving you? "I was thirsty after I got back from soccer practice today and I just drank it down without looking at it." So how do you know that it has anything to do with your getting the wrong medication? Can he be serious?

He sighs. "I've never felt like this before." He slumps on his bed against the wall and closes his eyes. I call out to him but he doesn't hear me. Nice. The fucker expired on me. I need this shit. I move my computer away. He had better be dead and not doing some fucking performance. I step on his foot. He wakes, groggy ACTING. Fuck this. I return to my laptop. I know a panic attack when I see one. "I don't feel good, Hobobob." Look, do you feel like you are about to die? "My heart is racing." Why don't you lie down then? He still stays slumped against the wall.

Do you want someone to call a Tech? John asks. Igor groans. Call a Tech. "No, don't do that," Igor says. "I don't want to go to the hospital." What kind of shit is this? Why not? "Because of all of my equipment. I don't want to leave it here while I'm gone." I pipe up now. Yo, when they took me into the ambulance, I took my shit with me, right into the emergency room. That's not a problem. Then, like magic, a useless motherfucking Tech, Stephanie, walks, in. We call her 'Mini Me" In deference to Wendy, her wanna-be Tech. She is doing the bed check at Ten O'clock, when she stops over Igor and asks him what's wrong with him. He explains the same schlock to her too and she diagnoses it as a panic attack also . "Go to sleep," she tells him.

But something is wrong with him, he moans and groans. "Well do you want me to all 911 and get an ambulance here?" NO! He tells her about his gear. So she walks off.

That should have been it, but Igor starts to whine and cry like a child. He has never done anyone wrong, why would someone want to do something like this to him? He repeats this in a childish whine over and over again until it becomes almost unbearable. I was close to a scream when the Ambulance workers rushed into the room and addressed his ailment. Suddenly he was less about to die and more talkative. He related all the symptoms of a panic attack, which the Ambulance workers told him that he was having. Stop being a little bitch, I thought to myself. Take his fucking ass to the hospital.

It's not that I'm insensitive to people having panic attacks. Not in the least. But when I'm having them I'm feeling like I'M GOING TO DIE!!! I WANT to go to the hospital. If you're not sending over an ambulance, I'll fucking RUN THERE MYSELF. And this bitch here is whining about not feeling good, and his gear.

The Ambulance workers ask him if he wanted to go to the hospital, but he declines vigorously. Simply because he needed to keep his gear with him. They told him emphatically that he could take his shit where ever he wanted to. Still he declined. He was being a silly pest now, even to the workers and the Tech. If Igor was going to die, the Ambulance Worker would have liked to see him do so now. But no, he was just going to complain. They handed him a form, releasing them from any responsibility for not taking him to a hospital and left as quickly as they came. Igor layed down, whining.

I closed down my laptop and layed down for some much needed sleep. I wasn't going to finish my post tonight.

If he called my name I didn't hear him. I turned up my mini headsets and drowned everything out.

Sleep overtook me quickly.

Hobobob