Listen To Your Body: Drugs, Spring Break, and a Not So Scary Cop...

About three weeks ago Cupcake finally convinced me to go with her to a yoga class. I’ve done a little yoga in the past. Very little. I few years ago I went to a couple of classes and then about 6 months ago I tried Bikram Yoga. I got very bored very quickly in both those classes. However, I’m very much enjoying Cupcake’s studio , Yoga Vida. They teach Vinyasa yoga, which is… well I’ll just copy and paste this from their website because they say it best…

“Vinyasa is a Sanskrit word meaning breath-synchronized movement; breath and movement are seamlessly united in such a way that one action encourages the other. We call our classes "flow" because of the flowing connection between the breath and the body, between one posture and the next, and between one series of postures and the next. We invite you to experience this holistic fitness program for people of all ages and fitness levels that heals and detoxifies.”

Oh, and this is done in a hot room.

On Tuesday our instructor talked a lot about listening to your body and signs of fatigue or stress or dark circles, well these are ways our bodies tell us that something is wrong and we should listen. Now, I’m sure many of you are rolling your eyes and thinking to yourself, “oh that crazy Lemon Lady living in that weird city” (yeah, I know what you’re thinking Dad), but I truly believe in this because of one incident over Spring Break my senior year of college.

Spring Break my senior year really snuck up on me. I didn’t make any plans to go to some crazy destination somewhere and drink my bad grades away, nor did I even remember to ask for time off from work. I worked retail at the time and I probably would have forgotten about the break completely if it wasn’t for my manager asking me to take on more hours that week because half the staff was either in college and going to Mexico to drink all the tequila they could get their hands on or they had children who would be out of school that week to entertain at home. Because, I’m an idiot I told her sure I’d take a few more hours if she would give me the last two days off so I could try to have a little fun somewhere. I decided my fun would be driving the two hours to see my parents so I could go shopping with my mom. Seriously this was the highlight of my senior year’s Spring Break.

The other side of this story that you need to know is when I was a sophomore in High School I hurt my back pretty badly, and now I have back pain. I’ve talked to lots of doctors about and tried a lot of different medications and stretches. I’ve pretty much just learned to deal with it. At the time of this story I was still seeing my nice, young, female doctor as this was before I kicked her in the face and made her nose bleed. About a month before spring break she had prescribed me an arthritis medication hoping that would alleviate my back pain because she didn’t like me eating Motrin like candy or popping Narcotics. (Oh, sweet, sweet Vicodin…)

So I had been taking this medication for about a month, not every day, but enough to realize that it really wasn’t working. This is the sad thing. The freaking drug DIDN’T WORK, but in my mind I convinced myself that maybe I just needed to give it a little more time. I also noticed that it made me itchy. Not crazy itchy, but enough where in the middle of the night I would have to get out of bed and slather myself in lotion.

This is where I should have listened to my body. The itching should have been a giant red stop sign to me that hey, maybe my decision to keep taking this drug that is not working and seems to be having a weird reaction to my body ISN’T A GOOD IDEA!!! But, no. I wanted it to work so bad because my back hurt from working lots of hours (I worked in the stock room mostly) and I was going to see my mom and we were going to go shopping and I just wanted my two day Spring Break to be fun and perfect and pain free!!! I mean is this too much to ask?

Again, “I was going to see my mom and we were going to go shopping and I just wanted my two day Spring Break to be fun and perfect and pain free!!!”

On the morning of my first day off I woke up and my back was on fire. It was the worst it had been all week. It felt like some evil, evil little demon was pulling my skin away from my lower back and then twisting screw drivers into my spine. I was in PAIN. So, I crawled my way into the kitchen and downed a few crackers so I could crawl back into the bathroom and take two of the little blue and white pills that I wanted to work so bad. I prayed. I willed them to work. Then I took a shower and while the hot water massaged my lower back and temporally washed the little demons, I convinced myself that I would be okay and my two day Spring Break going to be awesome. It was at this point that I started getting really, really thirsty. I decided that my thirst was probably just being a tad bit dehydrated from beer the night before, so I made myself a big ‘ol cup of ice water for the drive down to my parents house.

Signs from my body: 2 (back pain and dehydration)

It was when I was walking down the stairs outside my apartment with my big ‘ol water and overnight bag when I started to feel a tad bit dizzy. Kinda like when you stand up to fast, but I was already standing. I figured this was because I was hungry, but I could make it to mom’s because if I did she would buy my lunch, thus more money to spend shopping.

Signs from my body: 3 (back pain, dehydration, and dizziness)

I had been in the car and driving for twenty minutes or so when the itchiness started… real bad. At this point in the back of my mind I know something is wrong. Something is seriously wrong. I can’t put down my big ‘ol water for fear of my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, I’m having trouble concentrating on the road because my mind and eyes are dizzy and now I’m having to take my hands off the wheel and scratch my body every three seconds.

Signs from my body: 4 (back pain, dehydration, dizziness, and itching)

Five minutes later it hits me, like a slap to the face, I have to throw up. All the water I’ve been drinking is suddenly at the back of my throat and I can feel it. I’m doing 70 MPH on 290 just outside Dripping Springs and my eyes can’t focus and my back is on fire and I’m rubbing my legs on the back of the seat trying to relieve the constant itch and I know I have to pull over.

I pulled over on the side of the road and threw up all that water and any of the drug that was left in my stomach and yes, probably those few crackers as well. Just as I am finishing I hear a car slow and pull in behind me. I just remember being pissed off, honestly. I remember thinking, “Really? I just want to get to my parents so I can go shopping and try to have a fun day with my mom and put this whole silly over dose or bad drug reaction out of my mind and now I have to deal with some hillbilly stopping to hold my hair and ask questions, oh Hell no…”

Then my mind sobered up and I remembered that I was in the middle of nowhere and what if this person stopped to rape me, kidnap me, force me into slavery, etcetera… I’m all alone on the side of a two way highway in Texas with my car door wide open and I’m bent over at my waist not trusting my mind to be stable enough to actually stand straight and defend myself, or at least run.

Turns out “scary rapist guy” was a cop, and not a “scary rapist cop” but a nice old cop who kinda looked liked Kevin Spacey (who I love). I think at first he thought I might be drunk – which would have been bad enough – but then I told him the story about the bad drug I’ve been taking… which big surprise didn’t help my cause. Finally my brain started working again and I perked up enough to add to my story that the drug I took was prescribed by my doctor and not a narcotic. In fact it was a old person’s arthritis medication and I should have stopped taking it weeks ago, it’s just I really wanted a good two day Spring Break that involved shopping with my mom. Again, I really just wanted a good two day Spring Break with my mom. By this time he had gotten me a bottle of water from his car and was laughing at my story. While he stayed with me for a few minutes to make sure the dizziness was gone he told me a story about his daughter and how she thought she overdosed on Benadryl but really she just ate some unwashed lettuce. Yeah, my crazy Spring Break story can now be lumped in with some Benadryl bimbo that can't wash her veggies... great...

After twenty minutes I got into my car and drove off with no more itching, upset stomach, or dizziness. I got to my parents an hour and a half later with just some good ‘ol bad pain. I took some Motrin and sucked it up, so I could at least pretend to have a good time shopping with my mom.

My mom and I bought matching shoes at Nordstoms. They were these cute little summer wedges in red and blue. The next week I realized exactly how bad my back must have hurt because those shoes that were all cute and comfy in the store, HURT LIKE A BITCH the second I tried to take a step in them outside my apartment door.

Signs from my body I didn’t listen too: Back Pain, Dehydration, Dizziness, Itching, Upset Stomach

Signs from my body I did listen too: Foot Pinching – I never wore those shoes ever again

Last Night's Conversation and Our Secret Cocktail Recipe...

Yeah… hospital week is done. I actually have another story, but I think I’m going to save it for later. As funny as it is, no stomach pumping story is going to beat “The worst, most awkward, most embarrassing story of my life”. In all reality I’m still sort of emotionally exhausted from that post. When Boyfriend got home yesterday our conversation went something like this…

Me: “I need to tell you something.”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “It’s what I blogged about today and it’s kinda embarrassing…”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing than the time you wanted Joe Boxer smiley face shorts and see through white track pants?”

Me: “Totally.”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing that the time you quoted Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park in your Project Runway Recap?”

Me: “It was Ian Malcolm from The Lost World, and yes.”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing…”

Me: “YES! I get it. I’m an embarrassing, awkward nerd.”

Boyfriend: “This one time in the middle of the night I went to the bathroom and after I washed my hands I accidentally dried them with toilet paper because it was the first thing my hands went to because I was half asleep.”

Me: “That story couldn’t even pick the lint between my story’s toes.”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “Whatever. Listen to this…”

And then I told him the story.

Boyfriend: “So you wrote on your blog about your Pap Smear? Like details? Isn’t that a little… um… gross?”

Me: “I don’t think I made myself clear.”

Boyfriend: “You said ‘fingers inside me’?”

Me: “Well, yeah… But only for comedic affect.”

Boyfriend: “But, were they inside you?”

Me: “Yes, but…”

Boyfriend: “That’s gross.”

Me: “You don’t seem to be concentrating on the most important part of the story.”

Boyfriend: “It’s funny. You karate kicked your doctor. I get it. But can you please be a little less disgusting next time.”

Me: “My doctor getting the bloody nose was the funniest (yet most embarrassing) part of the story.”

Boyfriend: “You know what I mean.”

Me: “Yes sir. Not more ‘fingers inside me’ talk.”

Boyfriend: “Thanks, and your story is pretty F-ing funny.”

Me: “I know, right…”

And, because once upon a time when I started this blog I wanted it to be more and just embarrassing stories of me and a few of my friends, here is the recipe for the cocktail of choice in our home.

The Polish and a Pickle

Ingredients:

1 shot Dripping Springs Vodka (or any other quality Vodka for those who don’t live in central Texas)

1 Polish Pickle

Directions:

Drink the shot of Vodka. Take a bite out of the pickle. Enjoy.

The Worst, Most Awful, Most Embarrassing Story of My Life...

I know I said this week is Hospital Week, but I’m going to stretch “hospital” to also mean “doctor’s office”.

Okay so you know how I usually state how this is going to be another embarrassing story about myself and then I go on to type a funny little happening that caused me to blush at the time or even put my hand over my eyes and say to myself, “Wow. How awkward and weird can I be?” This is not one of those little funny quips. This is the Granddaddy of all embarrassing stories. This is the Big Enchilada, the Head Honcho, the Story to End All Embarrassing stories. I am pretty sure, like 90%, that I’ve never told this one to anyone. I mean even after drinking three bottles of wine with Davis Girl or downing Purple Margaritas made from Everclear with LSU Friend until they cut us off … still never told this story.

Also, tacos are not involved.

Here goes…

While I was in college I routinely went to the same doctor. I feel like I need to say that I saw her more than once because, just like hair dressers, I usually never go to the same one twice. I don’t know why really. I can get great medical advice or an awesome haircut and still never go back to that person again. I think it has to do with the fact that I am a procrastinator. I usually don’t go to the doctor until I’m convinced I’m about to die from Ebola or I’m about to run out of birth control. Also, I don’t ever get my hair cut until it has been 2 months overdue and I’ve had a crappy week at work and I just got paid. Magically those stars align about every 6 months. Because I wait and put off these appointments I usually spend an hour calling around trying to find some person (doctor or stylist) who can see me that afternoon.

My doctor was a young woman named Dr. Nguyen. I really liked her a lot. Davis Girl recommended me to her after she started seeing Dr. Nguyen about six months before my first visit. Davis Girl liked her because she was young and still really excited about medicine, gross illnesses, and curing people. At this time Davis Girl wanted to be a doctor and Dr. Nguyen helped her get a job as a tech at one of the local hospitals. I liked her because she explained procedures and medication in easy to understand terms, she was quick but I didn’t feel rushed, and she gave me lots of free samples for pills when I was trying to figure out something to help my back pain. (Turns out all I need is a bottle of Vodka and a large hot bath.)

For the Big Enchilada of embarrassing stories, I’m at Dr. Nguyen’s office one afternoon for my yearly pap smear and to renew my birth control. As I’m hanging out in the waiting room Dr. Nguyen’s totally hot boyfriend comes in the front door with her totally adorable dog. He introduces himself to me and then explains to the receptionist and me that he was out running with the dog and he got called into work and doesn’t have time to take him home, so he needs to leave the dog here with Dr. Nguyen. The receptionist says it’s no problem, takes the leash and hot boyfriend leaves.

10 minutes later I’m in the exam room with the tech/nurse lady (the one who takes your temperature and blood pressure) when Dr. Nguyen pokes her head in and asks me if it’s okay if her dog hangs out in my room because one of her partner's patients, who is in the waiting room, is allergic. I say it’s okay. She smiles at me and tell me his name is Ed and that he is very sweet. Dr. Nguyen then says she will be back very shortly once I’ve changed clothes. She and the nurse/tech/assistant person exit the room leaving only Ed and myself.

Being the dog lover that I am, as soon as the door closes I immediately crouch down to play with Ed. He comes rushing over, wagging his tail, and starts licking my hands. I pet him and talk to him and have myself a gay ‘ol time. The receptionist told me Dr. Nguyen and the Hottie rescued him from the shelter and I did see the Town Lake Animal Shelter ID on his collar. I also noticed that his full name was Special Ed, not just Ed.

After playing with the Ed for a few minutes I undressed and put on the soft white robes Dr. Nguyen has for her patients instead of the usual paper gown. (This information is not needed for the story but I always thought it was nice of her to have robes and not paper dresses without backs.) She knocks on the door and I tell her it’s okay for her to come in. When she enters Ed gets up from my side where he was sitting and goes over to her, wagging his tail. Dr. Nguyen pets him for a few minutes and we small talk until she tells the dog to go lay down so she can wash her hands and put on gloves.

We talk for a few minutes about why I’m here and how my back is doing.

Nothing weird happens.

She does a breast exam.

Nothing weird happens.

She has me do some back stretches.

Nothing weird happens.

Then she has me lie on my back so she can press on my stomach and feel my organs or something… I never know why doctors do this. Okay I mean I know it’s to make sure I don’t have giant Spleen tumor or to check to see that my Liver is in fact still there, but there is no point to do this to me because I am so ticklish. You know how three year olds are ticklish. That’s how ticklish I am. I laugh until I cry and sometimes I can’t breathe. Just like a three year old, you can look like you’re about to come across the couch to tickle me and I’ll burst into laughter. Now, I don’t know if you think this is funny or just sad that a 25 year old can’t control herself anymore than a 3 year old, but it’s true. Boyfriend even has strict rules about how and where he can touch me as not to tickle me. I know… weird. Yeah I get it. Back to the story…

Dr. Nguyen: “Okay, now I’m going to check to make sure your Intestines are still inside you.” (Or some other medical talk like that…)

Me: “Sure thing.”

Dr. Nguyen: Press… Press…

Me: (tying to hold it in) "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

This is when my appointment starts to go downhill. Although I can’t see this because I’m laughing up on the exam table, evidently my laughing has caused Ed to get extremely uncomfortable. Over my snickering and giggling I hear him start growling and get up from where he had been laying down all appointment.

Dr. Nguyen: “Ouch!!!! WFT!!!!!”

Me: (sitting up) “What? Are you okay?”

Dr. Nguyen: “I think Ed just bit me…”

Me: “Seriously?”

Yeah, my sweet little Doctor has just been bitten in the leg by her adorable rescue dog because she was tickling me. I quickly start apologizing for making noises like a rabid 3 year old, while Dr. Nguyen starts apologizing for her retarded dog. (Yeah, retarded. There is a reason his full name is Special Ed.) She stops my exam to clean her bloody wound and bandage it. Five minutes later, after a lot of “Wow that was weird” talk, my doctor is ready to finish my appointment. I should mention that she did ask me if I wanted her to put Ed in an empty room for the remaining time of my exam. Poor Ed was trying to hide in the corner, had his tail between his legs, and that look that all dogs get when they know they’ve done something seriously wrong. “Oh. Shit. I’ve seriously messed up. Why did I bite her? Why did I bite her?” You know, that look. I'm a big softy, so of course I said I didn't mind if he stayed. I mean he didn't bite me.

Five minutes later I’ve got my feet in the stirrups and Dr. Nguyen is… um… doing her doctorly thing down there, when I feel something brush by my feet. (Okay Time Out. Remember how I said I’m like a 3 year old when it comes to being ticklish and I giggled and laughed out loud when my doctor tried to do her job by seeing if my insides were in fact where they should be. Well, I’m like a three year old on crack when it comes to people touching or messing with my feet. I explode. I can’t help it. Something inside of me snaps and I can’t keep it together. Okay Time In.) Something just brushed against my foot. Then that something, which I can tell is very furry, stops under my foot and move his head back and forth causing his head hairs to tickle my feet. I can’t hold it in even though my doctor has her F-ing fingers inside me!!!

Me: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But I don’t just laugh. Oh God, if only I just laughed I could have said at the beginning of this post that this is just another tail of me being my awkward, weird self. But this is the story to top all stories, so no, I don’t just laugh. The dog’s fur makes me laugh so much that my foot spasms and jumps out of the stirrup and I knee my doctor in the face which causes her nose to start bleeding which causes her dog to freak out and start barking wildly.

(Yeah, go ahead and read that sentence again. I’ll wait.)

Fuck my life.

If you are waiting for a cute end to this story, there isn’t one. If there is an upside to this story, a very small upside, it is that Dr. Nguyen was done with my exam so I didn’t have to wait for her to stop her bloody nose and control her dog to finish my appointment. She left to tend to her nose, I got dressed in record time, and was out of there ASAP. I did have to go back the next day to get my new birth control prescription that I hadn’t waited around for the day before (because there was no way I was going through that ordeal and not getting anything out of it). Dr. Nguyen had left it at the counter and the receptionist practically threw it at me when I asked for it.

And I’ve never been back since.

And that just might be the worst, most awful, most embarrassing story of my life.

When I Broke My Foot at the Happiest Place on Earth (No Not Disney World)... Okay the 2nd Happiest Place on Earth...

I’ve decided that after yesterday’s post this week will be all about hospitals. Won’t that be fun? Trust me I won’t write about the one time I almost could have maybe died Sophomore year of college because I had Meningitis (viral not the killer bacteria) and the school clinic I went to on Saturday morning told me I had the flu when really I could have been dying with Meningitis (because no one knew that I didn’t have the killer bacterial kind.) Then when I almost (maybe sorta) died Saturday night I had to make my Ex-Boyfriend (yeah the one with the snakes) take me to the hospital. Then four hours later when my parents arrived from San Antonio evidently my father took Ex-Boyfriend aside and was all, “Thank you for saving our daughters life. We are lucky she has you.” WFT!!! Ex-boyfriend told me that two weeks later and I only nodded but deep down I couldn’t believe he had taken this complement from my sweet, trusting father when he did nothing but drive me .3 miles to the hospital after I called him to help me save my own life!!! See that story isn’t really funny, so I won’t go into it.

But the time I broke my foot at Shlitterbahn… hilarious!

First things first. For you reader who have never been or never heard of Schlitterbahn let me explain to you the awesomeness that is the “hottest, coolest time in Texas”. Schlitterbahn is a family owned water park in New Braunfels, Texas. It has on numerous occasions been voted the best family water park in this country. (Yeah, it’s that good.) The original side of the park, it has two sides now, uses only water pumped from the Comal River. The water is used, sans chemicals, then dumped back into the river. One of the greatest things about Schlitterbahn is when you buy an admissions ticket you can then bring in as many coolers and as much food as you want. This means that after five hours of water slides, wave pools, and water-coasters you don’t have to pay 12 dollars for a turkey leg. Oh, and central Texas has a large German community, hence Schlitterbahn or “slippery road”.

So pretty much in an area where the nearest beach is at least a four hour drive, Schlitterbahn is the greatest thing ever in the 100+ degree Texas summer heat. Davis Girl, Boy Roommate, Old AT Co-Worker, and I decided to go on a Monday to avoid some of the crazy lines and annoying families. It was a great day. We rode lots of rides and slid down lots of slides. At about 3, Davis Girl reminded us that she needed to go back to where we parked our cooler and re apply sunscreen because she is all white and transparent. At this point we were on the other side of the park and it would take us about 20 minutes or so to get back to Camp Cooler. I don’t think any of us wanted to go, but we all took one for the team and decided to walk back with Davis Girl. After all no one wants a friend with skin cancer. So we walked all of twenty steps until we get distracted by this…
Han’s Hideout.

This is pretty much the kiddy pirate ship ride of the park. It’s made to be climbed on by seven year olds, so of course we thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. There were different levels and platforms and each had buckets of water to dump on people and guns to shot water at people. Again, awesome. Then at the very top of the ship there were two slides, side by side, to race your friend to the bottom… you’re seven year old friend.

So, we get to the top and Davis Girl and Old AT Co-Worker pick a slide and race each other to the bottom. Once they are on their way, Boy Roommate and I step into place to take our turns. Now, everyone who has ever been to a water park knows that you have to wait for the employee at the top of the slide to give you okay to start your own wild ride to the bottom. I step up into “next rider position”, and immediately turn to the fifteen year old in the red tank top to give me the okay to slide. He looks me in the eye and… yes this happened… winks. Now I’m all hopped up on adrenalin, all excited to beat Boy Roommate down the slide, and I take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. Go ahead and slide down this awesome pirate ship water slide, and while you’re at it, beat this dude to your left. You can take him. Go for it.” So I go. Evidently I was suppose to take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. You’re a little hottie. I know you are probably at least five years older than me and some people might call you a statutory rapist, but I think you and me could have a little something, something going on. Oh, and you shouldn’t go down the slide yet.” So I’m going down the slide. I’m having the time of my life… well not so much. I mean it’s a cool slide and all, but it was designed for seven year olds. Anyways, 10 seconds later I round the last turn in the slide and BAM!!!! I run right into Old AT Co-Worker’s head. Actually my left foot runs right into Old AT Co-Workers head. Like this…

Now I was not expecting to slide into my friend’s noggin so my first thoughts and reactions were of complete shock and bewilderment. I mean I was having fun, sliding down the water slide, and then POW Old AT Co-Workers head. Something didn’t add up. Very quickly the lifeguard at the bottom of the pirate ship was all up in my personal space asking me why the heck I was running into the nice young man who was sliding before me. Honest to God the first thought that ran through my head was, “Wow I’m really fast. I totally beat Boy Roommate down the slide.” Then I hear shouting coming from the employee at the top of the ship, “Why did you go? I didn’t tell you to go!”

Davis Girl: “Wow Lemon Lady you can’t just go whenever you want to go.”

Boy Roommate: “Dude, cheating doesn’t count. You didn’t beat me.”

Old AT Co-Worker: “My head is fine, but really you should have waited till the guy said you could go.”

Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Ma’am you must wait to be signaled to ride our rides.”

Me: “The guy totally gave me the okay!!! We can go ask him.”

As I am finishing this last sentence I try to stand up.

Me: “OOOAAACCHHHH!!!!”

Then I looked down and saw this…

Yeah, in the 45 seconds we had all been arguing about whether I had the right away to slide down the pirate ship of death a golf ball sized lump had appeared on my foot and I couldn’t put any weight on it.

Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Oh, man. Do you think it’s broken?”

Me: “It hurts…”

Davis Girl: “We need to get you to first aid.”

Me: “What the F is under my skin???”

Boy Roommate then picks me up and carries me in his arms across the park to the first aid station with mothers giving me the evil eye and whispering to their children, “See that’s what happens to you when you don’t follow the rules.”

The people at the first aid station then force me to sign a paper saying I won’t sue their asses before they would give me an ice pack for my foot. Then they put me in a wheelchair and made me sit out in front of the park why everyone else in my party goes and fetched the coolers and cars. I sat there for almost thirty minutes why eighth graders talked about the “poor, pathetic girl in the wheelchair” and “Why would anyone in a wheelchair want to spend the day at a water park.” I hate kids.

After spending thirty minutes driving around looking for an open clinic in New Braunfels, we decided to just drive back home to Austin. We ended up in the same Emergency Room I had been to eight months prior when I had Meningitis. Except this time I really wasn’t dying so I got to wait four hours to see a doctor. Surprisingly, I was in a very good mode (and this was even before the doctor gave me Vicodin). This tragic accident had happened in the afternoon, so we had practically had a full day at Schlitterbahn, Davis Girl had came and went with food for herself so she wasn’t a crazy bitch (you know those people who can’t function without a high blood sugar level) and we got to have wheelchair races in the hospital hallways.

Then I found out my foot was broken, and it would remain broken for the rest of summer. FU Schlitterbahn and the evil German family that invented you.

How I Ruined My Family's 2009 Memorial Day Weekend...

Before I get to today's post I just want to remind everyone who is reading that if you aren't following my blog you could... It makes me really happy to know people are reading about me embarrassing myself on a daily basis. No pressure, but there might be a big prize for followers!!! Okay there is no prize, but still it only takes a few seconds out of your day.

How I Ruined My Family’s 2009 Memorial Day Weekend…

This story still makes me laugh when I think about it and again falls into the “this would only happen to me” category.
Boyfriend and I made plans for Memorial Day Weekend to drive down to San Antonio and spend time with my parents and my sister, brother in law, and nephew who were also going to make the trek down south. My parents were excited because we would all be there, but more importantly the grandson would be there. I’m sure Sister and Brother in Law were excited because my parents would be playing with their kid 24/7, thus giving them some breathing time. And myself? I was just happy to be with everyone and no working for a weekend.

On Saturday my mother decided that we should pack a picnic, grab our swimsuits and floats, and spend the day at the river. What an American thing to do, right? I think she made this suggestion because Brother in Law had planned on going to the lake with his friends for the weekend until Sister told him they were going to her parents. So that morning we packed the cars (Yeah cars. My nephew can’t go anywhere without an entourage of plastic crap.) and headed 10 miles down the road to the river. The Guadalupe River twists and turns all throughout central Texas and I feel like you can never be more than 15 miles away from it if you are anywhere in between San Antonio and Austin. My parents own a piece of land in a community where there are parks with access to the river. We enjoy going to these parks because you have to have land in the community to use them. This means that not everyone and their step children are trying to enjoy the same plot of nature you are.

Okay that was the back story; here is when this post starts to pick it up…

We arrive at the river park and all is well. It was sprinkled on us a little in the car ride over, but once we reached the small parking lot for the park the sky was clear, the birds were chirping, and Brother in Law and I couldn’t get in the water fast enough. Toobs were blown up during the car ride and beers were popped as soon as the car stopped. We all grabbed as much baby crap as we could and walked down the hill to the river. It was beautiful. We were worried there wouldn’t be any water in the river and we were wrong. The river was flowing on the deep side and nice and shallow for wading and the kiddo on the shallow side. One other family was spending the day swimming and relaxing by the water with their two elementary school aged kids. Brother in Law and I were in the water on our floats with our beers before Sister and my parents had even put down the coolers and bags. It was wonderful.

Okay I guess that was more back story: here is where the dialogue picks up…

Two Minutes Later…

Me: EEKKK!

Brother in Law: Are you okay?

Me: A fish just touched me leg and freaked me out.

Dad: Lemon Lady don’t be silly.

Me: It creaped me out.

Dad: You’re ridiculous.

The little fish touching me weren’t scary or dangerous by any means but I moved away from them because I don’t like river or lake “things” touching me. You see I love going toobing and I love the lake, but I don’t like touching anything in either body of water. It has to do with not being able to see under the water and the fact that rivers and lakes (with only a few exceptions) are gross. Bottom of the lake between your toes – gross. Getting into your toob on the river bank – gross. Swimming in the middle of the lake not touching the bottom or nasty floating algae – fine. Toobing down this river with a beer in your hand staying away from the creepy, dark, shaded banks – fine. I moved all of three feet down the river and away from the little fish. There was a slight current and because I have delicate feet and didn’t want to float down the river only to have to walk back to where my family was sitting I put my feet on a rock that was almost big enough to be sticking out of the water. I need to remind the readers that this was very shallow water, like maybe 8 inches shallow. So this rock wasn’t that big. I had just enough space to nestle my feet so I wouldn’t float too far away from the beer cooler, my adorable nephew, or my hilarious brother in law.

Two Minutes Later…

Me: OOOUUUCCCHHHHH!!!!!!

Brother in Law: Hahahaha (I love how he has no idea what happened but still laughs because it’s happening to me and not him.)

Dad: Lemon Lady seriously they’re just tiny fish.

Me: (Still sitting in the toob, but holding my right foot in my hands) Whatever Dad, something bit me.

Dad: The fish didn’t bite you.

Me: Um, something did… It hurt and I’m bleeding.

Brother in Law: (Jumped up from his toob and was out of the water faster than I could put my bleeding foot back in the water to wash it off.)

I very awkwardly get out of my toob and try to stand up. I say awkwardly because there is no other way to describe trying to stand on unstable rocks on one foot so my father can see the blood on my other foot in a flowing river with one hand holding my toob so it won’t keep floating down the river. Awkward. I make it to my dad and he sees the blood.

Dad: Wow something did bite you!

Me: No shit.

Our fun day of at the river has turned into “What scary monster lives in 8 inches of water and has a taste for human flesh?” day. Also I don’t know if you really paid attention to the timeline of these events, but all of this happened before my mom and sister could slather enough sunscreen on themselves to get in the water. So my mom is examining my foot, Sister is holding my water loving nephew back from the river trying to explain to him that after talking about how he was going to get to play in the water all day for the past week he can now not get in the water, Brother in Law is still laughing at me and the whole situation, and my Dad…

Dad: Hey! She wasn’t lying. There is a snake over here… I think the snake bit her.

(Okay. Time for a Zack Morris style timeout. For the past six minutes we have been at the river we had already seen like five snakes swimming in the river, and we commented on all of them. “Oh, look. There’s another one. See over there…” But they were all on the other side of the river. Now this river, it’s isn’t exactly the Mississippi. The other side of the river, the “over there”, was maybe twenty, twenty five feet away. So in our minds the snakes swimming freely “over there” were of no danger because they were “over there” and we were in the shallow, 8 inch deep water “over here”. Yeah not a one of our college educated minds (well besides my one year old nephew) could put two and two together that if the snakes could swim on the west bank of the river… they probably could swim on the east bank of the river. Okay. Time in.)

Mom: Oh, no. Do you think it was poisonous?

Me: SNAKES AREN’T POISONOUS!!!!

Sister: Yeah, yeah we get it. (She had heard me lecture people on this before) They’re venomous… there’s a difference…

Me: There is a huge difference. People eat snakes and don’t die. If they were poisonous every back woods hick would fall down dead after frying up a Rattler. As long as they don’t eat the head, where the venom ducts are, the redneck is free to live and free to be an ignorant jackass.

Brother in Law: (To my nephew) Earmuffs. (Okay maybe he didn’t say that, but in my mind it would have been hilarious.)

Dad: If you two are done… I think Lemon Lady should go to the hospital and get that checked out. I can’t tell what kind of snake this is, but if it’s a Cottonmouth we better get going.

(Okay I’m just going to call all of these Zach Morris Style Time Outs in the future. I was not bit by a Cottonmouth or any other venomous snake. As much as I was flattered by my parents not wanting me to die and all there was no way I was bitten by this… I am by no means a snake expert, but Ex-Boyfriend (who I dated for a while during the beginning of college) was a big snake fan and I learned a lot about our no-legged friends from him. Plus we bought a few and kept them at my house so for a little while I shared an apartment with four slithery friends. Venomous snake bites hurt like Hell. Like they burn and you wriggle with pain. Although I had never been bitten by a snake (mine were lovers not haters) I knew I wasn’t “wriggling” in pain. It surprised me and I yelled ouch, but fire was not coursing through my veins. Also, as much as I made sure you, the reader, knew that I did bleed, I wasn’t gushing blood or anything. Venomous snakes bite down with two fangs and they make large holes when the fangs are then withdrawn, thus causing the bitten person to bleed a lot. Me, not so much. Time in.)

Mom: We are leaving now.

Sister: You and Dad take her in your car and we will pack everything up and follow.

Mom: Okay. That’s good. Now we just have to get up the hill.

Me: What do you mean get up the hill.

Mom: Maybe Dad and Brother in Law and carry you.

Me: I can walk okay.

Mom: If you walk up that hill you will get winded and your breathing will get fast and your heartrate will rise and the poison in you veins will rush throughout your body even faster!!!

Me: Venom!!!

Mom: Whatever!!!

Me: Dad and Brother in Law can’t carry me up that hill. (This was true. It is a big hill.)

Mom: Okay walk, but try not to exert yourself and get winded, but also hurry up it’s probably a 12 minute drive to Boerne (the closest town).

The drive back into town was very uneventful. I didn’t pass out or die. My foot tingled a little bit and I was hot, but other than that it was very boring. We got into town and more importantly back into civilization where our cell phones worked and Mom found a 24 hour clinic. As Dad pulled up to the front door Mom was already jumping out and yelling to the clinic workers that I had been bit by a snake.

Clinic Worker #1: Um, yeah, you can’t stay here.

Clinic Worker #2: We don’t have snake bit kits or anti poison or anything.

Me: (Yelling from the car because my mom’s car door and the clinic door were both still open) IT’S ANIT-VENOM!!!

Clinic Worker #1: You’re going to have to take her to a hospital.

Luckily for us the nearest hospital was all of three miles down the road. Brand spanking new too! We got there in 45 seconds.

45 Seconds later… (Mom and I entered the hospital while Dad was parking the car.)

Mom: My daughter was bit by a snake!

Nurse: A snake. What type of snake? Was it Poisonous?

Me: Snakes aren’t pois..

Mom: Quiet Lemon Lady. (Turning to the nurse) We’re not sure what kind of snake. It was in the water.

Nurse: Let’s take a look…

I then spend two hours in the hospital while three nurses, my Dad, and my Sister and Brother in Law all tried to figure out what kind of snake had bitten me. Since I never even saw the little jerk snake I didn’t have much to say in these conversations. Dad saw it, but only all coiled up and underwater. Sister and Brother in Law saw it much better. Evidently after my parents rushed me and my bitten foot to the emergency room the other family that was at the river helped Sister and Brother in Law carry all the crap we had left back up to the car. Sister and Brother in Law explained what happened and they quickly called their kids out of the river. (Yeah these kids had been swimming and playing all of three feet from my rock with the snake under it and did it bother them? Of course not. Again, things that would only happen to me.) One of the kids had a net for catching fish and the grownups decided to net the snake out on to the river bank to get a better look at it for identification purposes. (That and you know Brother in Law and that other Dad loved the idea of catching the big bad snake.) Back at the hospital Dr. Whatshisface told me there was no way I was bitten by a venomous snake. Seeing how I wasn’t dying, I agreed with his diagnosis. (Evidently you have to get a PhD to know the difference between poisonous and venomous.) Once the nurses had the pictures of the snake (taken by Brother in Law on his iPhone) and the eye witness counts of what it looks like from Dad, Sister, and Brother in Law they decided I was bit by this guy… Introducing my toe eater… The Diamondback Water Snake.

Interesting Facts about The Diamondback Water Snake:

They are found predominantly near slow moving streams, rivers, and other small bodies of water. (Yeah I know.)

While not endangered or threatened, their main threat is human ignorance. Diamondback water snakes are often mistaken for cottonmouths or rattlesnakes and are killed out of fear. In actuality, diamondback water snakes (and other species of water snake) are far more common than the venomous snakes in their range, especially in areas that are frequented by humans. (This explains why I’m not dead and why we saw five of his little friends hanging out on the other side of the river.)

We went home and played card games and Risk for the rest of the weekend.


Just a little ending note... I am by no means making fun of the way my parents handled this situation. I love them both very much and I'm glad they were going to do everything they possibly could so that I wouldn't die. Thanks Mom and Dad. Oh, and I didn't just leave Boyfriend out of this story, he was working Saturday morning and drove down to San Antonio that afternoon. He fully thinks I'm super silly and probably kicked the poor snake.