It's PanDENmonium! [Off Topic Chat]

Four outpatient hospitalizations, an unimaginable amount of prescription laxatives, and roughly an accumulative 48 hours on the porcelain throne later, I defeated the Poop Rock. Things only got weirder. Later I would wonder why the doctors never warn you about what could go wrong, but I suppose the possibilities are actually limitless. Poop Rock? Why stop there? The following six months, I was hospitalized for all kinds of zany afflictions, including neutropenic shock (dangerously low white blood cell count), phlebitis (infected blood clots), cellulitis (akin to elephantiasis), nerve damage, and a lymphangiogram (a fancy word for foot slaughter).

During one of my overnights at LPCH for a bad case of neutropenia, I shared a hospital room with a morbidly obese, fourteen-year-old Leukemia patient who had an infant child and a penchant for random violence towards nurses. At around two a.m. she began making disconcerting groans, but approaching her was ill-advised due to her notorious irascibility. None of the nurses answered my repeated calls on the intercom, and my father commanded me to do something about it, because it was making him feel uncomfortable. My roommate’s less than dulcet squalling continued, so I climbed out of the hospital bed, removed my heart monitors, and unplugged my IV stand from the wall so I could roll myself down the hall to seek assistance. This scenario was a good example of his parenting style, and incidentally the only time I saw him the entire year. He had grudgingly turned up because my mom was worried I might not survive. When I arrived at the ER in Sonoma the evening before, delirious and with a 104 degree fever, they refused to admit me because of liability issues that would arise if I were to die under their care. The elusive silver lining showed through, as the ambulance ride to Palo Alto was actually fun after a hefty hit of morphine.