There’s a show on YouTube that Mark likes to watch called Hot Ones, in which this guy interviews celebrities while making them eat progressively spicier chicken wings. I have a love/hate relationship with this show. On one hand, I like the interviews and I enjoy watching celebs lose their shit as their faces melt off due to ridiculously hot wings. However, I want the wings. Oh, how I want the wings.
Chicken wings were once my favorite food. Lucky as I am to have been born in Buffalo where wings are made properly and often, I developed gastroparesis which effectively shut down my love for this spicy treat. There are some upsides, of course. I eat a lot less crap than I used to, but my options off a pizzeria menu are very limited. Sometimes I just want to order out and not cook, but it becomes a hassle of where to get food that won’t make me sick. It’s easier to go out to eat, but I still have moments where I won’t be able to get what I intended to in the first place, had I not had gastroparesis.
Having this disease has been a nightmare at times, mostly when you take into consideration the amount of time spent at the hospital. This last time was the worst.
I went to the ER and was given a dissolvable Zofran, then shots of morphine and Ativan. I was sent to the waiting room, and after a little while a nurse came out and told me I was fine and could go home. I did. The next day I was back. I was again given shots and Zofran, this because no one in the ER was willing to try to find a vein on me, a serious problem that I can do literally nothing about. The only thing that keeps your veins good is not going to the hospital. They put me back in the waiting room. Then a nurse came out.
“Did the Doctor talk to you?” I shake my head no. “Yes, he did. Sign here and you can go.” I sign the paper, knowing that I’m a little foggy but also that I DID NOT speak to a doctor. I go home. I puke in the car on the way.
I go back the next day. They admit me, finally, for “observation,” which turns into a bunch of tests and then an endoscopy, a procedure I have wanted for a couple years but no one has thought to do. There they discovered that there was scar tissue growing in my stomach, and preventing it from draining out, thus screwing up my entire digestive system. The doctor removed the scar tissue, and I was sent home the next day.
I have been feeling very good these past few days. I was nauseous this morning but I’m pretty sure it was due to a hectic night’s sleep. I am hopeful that I will be able to stay out of the hospital for a bit.
Of course, I’m not running out to try a chicken wing. I miss them, but I miss my life more and that’s what I lose when I’m hospitalized. I watch Hot Ones with Mark and wish I could just order some right away, but I refrain because as fun as it is to look at, I know the reality of it is far worse. Those wings look delicious and exciting on TV, but in my stomach it’s another story. So I watch my wing-porno and occasionally take a bite when Mark orders them, but I stay away on the whole because I would rather make some small sacrifices than spend another day in that hospital. I’ve said goodbye to many foods I used to love, but the chicken wing will always hold a special place in my heart. At least I can live vicariously through celebrities. Thanks, Hot Ones.