The worst day ever

We had to be at the University of Iowa Hospital at 5:30 in the morning for Ginnie's hysterectomy.  We were there on time and I was whisked away to a waiting room.  This was to be a day all about Ginnie, of course.  But I wasn't feeling well, and hadn't felt well for a couple of days.  I won't go into details except that it involved both ends. 
The surgery lasted five hours, and then about the same amount of time in recovery.  I was feeling sick and killing time in a waiting room was murder!  On my way back from the restroom, one of the ladies in charge of the waiting area asked if I was all right.  I said, no, I was sick.  I asked if she could round up some ibuprofen and something to drink.  She hurried off to the emergency room and came back with ibuprofen and a soda.  What an angel.     
My biggest concern was getting Ginnie from the hospital to our car.  There are seemingly endless hallways and sky-walks and elevators.  But I needn't worry.  A cute little teen volunteer pushed Ginnie all the way to our car in the parking ramp.  Another angel. 
By the time we had Ginnie tucked into the car, I could hardly breathe.  I made up my mind I would go to Urgent Care the following morning.  And I did.  I was running a low-grade fever and thought I might have pneumonia.  The Urgent Care doc listened to my heart and informed me I had a heart murmur.  A student doctor in the room listened and confirmed it.  I'm 76 and have never had a heart problem except for a pacemaker because of a low pulse.  The Urgent Care Doctor informed me that because of the murmur and my difficulty breathing he was sending me to the emergency room, and asked if I wanted to go by ambulance or did I have someone who could drive me?  Ginnie was home, not able to drive because of her surgery.  I had to call a friend to come and get me and haul my carcass to the ER. 
At the ER, they could not detect a murmur, but told me murmurs could be intermittent.  They did tell me I was positive for Influenza A, and asked if I was diabetic, because my blood sugar was 181.  Yikes!  No, I have never been diabetic.  (BTW, I had my flu shot.)  They sent me home with an antibiotic, and told me to watch what I ate. 

I had an appointment coming right up with my oncologist, so I figured I would dump the whole problem in his lap—influenza and colitis, which was caused by the cancer treatment.  Before this happened the only thing I knew about colitis was from the Beatles' song, “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” and what I thought were the lyrics, “The girl with colitis go by.”  I know now that the lyrics are actually, “The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”  Trust me on this, I also know now what colitis is!  (And my blood sugar was back to normal.) 
It was St. Patrick's Day and, even as sick as I was, I couldn't resist a little prank.  (This should tell you a lot about my character.)  Whenever I visit my oncologist, he always asks if I have a rash on my back or stomach.  I never do.  But, as I was getting dressed for the doctor's appointment, all in green by-the-way, I took it a step further.  With a green magic marker I painted a big green splotch on my stomach.  
At the doctor's office, sure enough, he asked if I had a rash.  I pulled up my shirttail, and he just about fainted.  “Happy St. Patrick's Day!” I told him.  A grin slowly came across his face, then he burst out laughing.  He then went out in the hall and grabbed some other hospital staff and showed them my St. Patrick's Day rash.  They loved it! 
One way to cure The Worst Day Ever is to have The Best Day Ever!  God and I and your prayers are going to whip this cancer/colitis duo, and it's going to be with a smile on my face, and a song in my heart.  (Yes, Ginnie's doing fine.)
Have a good story?  Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com.  Curt is available for public speaking.