Diagnosis!

I can't believe I got in and out of Penn Hospital in 2 1/2 hours. Last time I went to the Emergency Room, I was there from 8:30 pm until 4:00 am.

Diagnosis: Spider bite of unknown origin, cellulitis & severe allergic reaction to one or both. They can't tell what kind of spider bit me (I KNOW it's not a recluse, I got bit by one of those before and it was all necrotic and gross) but they gave me an epinephrine injection, some anti-venom, an anti-biotic and prednisone. The cellulitis (basically infected bites) came from me scratching the darn things as well as whatever it was dumping an assload of bacteria on me when it bit me. 15 times. The only thing they can surmise is that either I sat in a freshly-hatched nest of them (where, I have no idea - lets be honest, I live in an urban city) or that the same bug just crawled all over me and had a nice little meal of my flesh. The reaction either came from the venom or from the bacteria I got dumped with. Either way, my final diagnosis was stupidity for not getting it looked at by a non-free-clinic doctor the first, second or even fourth time I got the stupid reaction. My entire wardrobe is now being washed in hot water (again) in case there's some sort of eggs in it (EWWWW) and I have to follow up and go to the allergy consultants tomorrow.

I also finally got myself an EpiPen. The doctor asked if I had ever had a severe reaction before or had family history, and when I said yes (to bee stings) and yes (my mom is allergic to bees as well and my grandmother is all but homebound with allergies and asthma), she looked at me like she was about to write "has three heads and spews green vomit" on my chart. Her exact words?

"Molly, I don't need to tell you that you shouldn't be walking around in this city, not to mention rural Virginia, without an injection kit. That's how people die of reactions."

I know. I was crazy. I figured I'd used the old one circa a billion years ago and have enough sense to stay away from bee's nests. Not to mention drunk people seem to be fascinated with an auto injector when they find out there's one in my possession. For those of you who didn't witness the incident at the Five Points house senior year, for the record, do NOT dare certain people(oh, I don't know, YOU, Mav) to give it to themselves. They'll shoot toxic waste into their thigh if they've been hanging around a keg since 1 pm. Try explaining how your old kit got used to UGA's Health Center without evidence that you were treated. You'll get a nice "this is a controlled substance, you could get into a lot of trouble for this" lecture that just might make you miss your Media Planning quiz.

So anyway. Yes, I'm fine. A little tired from 3 Benadryl and an Epinephrine injection, but otherwise A-OK.

I DID, however, get quite a show while I was in the ER. I saw the following:
1. An old man who had no idea where he was and his good-for-nothing daughter who was pissed off that Pop was keeping her from her beauty sleep because "you'll be fine in the morning". For the record, the man was suffering from dementia, and in a moment of clarity, had the presence of mind to request to go to the hospital because his leg was swollen with some sort of diabetic thing to the point of where I could hear the doctor go "oh my GOD that's huge". He kept having WWII flashbacks and his daughter kept telling him to shut up. I felt like walking over and reminding her that if it weren't for her father storming the beaches at Normandy, she'd be speaking German right now. But I restrained myself.

2. An Asian fellow came in right behind me and had clearly been in a bar fight. His story changed from "a car accident" to "I fell on the edge of the sink" to "I hit myself in the face". My male nurse yelled at him to "man up." He barely spoke English, and I'm guessing that his language-learning method was much the same of 8th graders - he could pronounce the F-bomb and call his girlfriend a C-word, but the rest was very fuzzy. He wanted to go home, but they said he had to get CAT scans. Why he wanted to go home when his eye was so swollen that the doctor couldn't even get his contact lens out was beyond me.

3. A very common sighting at Emergency Rooms: people who bring their entire family to the hospital for a minor problem. Seriously, if you are ever hurt, please - RESIST the urge to clutter up the waiting room. Hospitals are some of the dirtiest, most germ-infested places you will ever enter. For your OWN health, stay home and wait for your aunt/cousin/whatever to get discharged. Do not bring a CHILD to a hospital unless they have a dying relative, is a patient themselves or is over the age of 7 and is welcoming a new sibling. If you need to go to the ER, bring ONE representative/person with you. I guarantee you, if you need to go to the Emergency Room, the neighbors will keep an eye on your kids.

4. There is not ONE healthy choice in the vending machines. And we wonder why America is the fattest nation on Earth.

5. The Gatekeeper Theory: be nice to the front desk, the security guard, every nurse you meet, and your technician. They control when you see the doctor, and they can disable your call button.

6. While I appreciate that we, as a society, want to catch substance and domestic abuse at its first sign, I do not need Psych to visit me to assure them for the fifth time that no - no one has been hurting me. I also do not need to talk to anyone about a drinking problem since my large bruise was due to a drunken mishap. I'm 28. I'm single. It's summer. I found a shopping cart. End of story. Yes, they still gave me the domestic abuse and Alcoholics Anonymous 1-800 numbers. Keep in mind - I WAS SOBER tonight and was NOT there about the bruise.

7. There was poop on the wall. I have now visited TWO hospitals in the Philadelphia area and spotted poop on the wall. Again, germs. They're everywhere in hospitals. MRSA is everywhere.

8. They never asked for my ID or insurance information. I'm thinking I'm going to wait to see IF a bill shows up and THEN submit my info.

9. There was NO George Clooney in this ER. No Noah Wyle. No Croatian hottie named Luka either. Dammit.

Ewwww...the bug bite saga continues.

Ugh. The whatever-it-is has gotten worse. I finally got ahold of a temporary health insurance card which is good for two reasons:
1. I can get looked at by someone other than the public health department. At the health department, there's a weird mix of people - rich, poor, of every background and class. It's also mostly children. Probably because kids get sick more often than adults and there's more resources to treat sick uninsured children, and probably because parents will ignore their own symptoms for a long time, however their children are a different story. It's quite strange, but it makes you realize how incredibly shameful it is that we live in the richest nation on earth and there's at least 6 million that we know of who have no access to health care. At any rate, I don't know if you know this, but if you're a 28-year-old single woman who walks into a pay-what-you-can clinic, they pretty much just test you for STD's and then give you an antibiotic and a decent guess at what you have if they get no positive results. They're understaffed, underfunded and overworked, so if you're walking, they're pretty much at a loss for any big level of care. While the docs there are real doctors, I need to see someone who KNOWS what the hell is wrong with me.
2. I can fill whatever prescription they give me, provided I have the copay. This is a good thing.

So yeah, the bug-bites-slash-allergic-reaction has only proceeded to get worse and worse. I have been feeling overall lethargic, sick, dizzy and nauseous, not to mention a whole buncha irritable. I dare someone to say something like "get off your ass, Molly". I'll get my last ounce of energy together and slap you and then burst into tears. My friend Kelly took one look at it and said "if it's not spider bites, you're either highly allergic to whatEVER it is and/or it's getting infected really quickly." I don't remember any spiders in our house, but I know I'm allergic to whatever it is - I've had severe hives, itching, swelling and my throat narrowing a good four times in two days.

I called my doctor today with my new health insurance information, told her my symptoms and she told me the worst thing EVER - I gotta go to the ER. She doesn't think it's that bad, but the office doesn't have the ability to test whatever it is without risking some sort of anaphylaxic reaction that she doesn't want to happen in her office - i.e. if I were allergic to peanuts like that new wave of kids are, she'd be worried I'd stop breathing if she tried to figure it out by exposing me to the peanuts. Great, love that she's all careful, but it means a $100 copay that I simply don't have.

So I'm off to Penn Hospital to sit amongst the Gunshot Wounds, ear infections and other bug-bitees. Who'da thunk it.

I have a picture of my legs and arms to show you, but I'm thinking it's too much tissue decay and gross stuff for most of you, so I'll spare you.

On a bright note...that show "Hopkins" on ABC? My friend Mary is on it...look for a red-headed nurse in the transplant ward that kinda looks like Grace from Will and Grace. I just saw a couple of minutes of it tonight and am hoping it's on a podcast somewhere, I haven't gotten the other episodes.

I know, I know...

It's been forEVER. I'm horrible. I'm bad.

I've had a rough week.

A week ago, I was stupidly drunk and broke my elbow. Again. I don't have to have a cast this time (it was very small and there's some tissue and fluid that had kind of built itself around my elbow from the last time that protected it a little), but it still hurts. I will write more on it later, but put it this way - I have learned that shopping carts may be fun, but their power needs to be RESPECTED.

My brother Parker came to visit for the weekend, whereupon 2 Harringtons and a few others consumed two cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I was already on this train after the elbow incident, but I am laying off the sauce for a WHILE.

I've been working my butt off.

And I had a bit of a scare. Wednesday night, I was on the phone with my friend Beth and suddenly felt a little...odd. I got off the phone with her, and about ten minutes later, my entire body was CONSUMED with a severe allergic reaction to SOMEthing. I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, but even then, there was nothing I had never eaten before. I'm telling you, it was BAD. Like those kids you get warned about with peanut butter bad. My whole body swelled, I got hives like you read about, had labored and shallow breathing, and my throat started to narrow significantly. After tearing the house apart, I took THREE Benadryl tablets. I almost called my roommate, but decided against it because by the time she got home from work, it would probably die down or I'd be dead anyway. I called Cara, who seems to know protocol for stuff like that given the fact that she's had minimal first aid training in flight attendant school. She yelled at me a little bit for not having an EpiPen, and then she told me to go smoke a cigarette or find a nicotine patch. Before you yell at me for smoking, it WAS kind of good advice. Cigarettes, in a pinch, are minor broncho-dialators, and it calms nerves in a chemical way. Since an allergic reaction is basically your body over-reacting to whatever allergen you've encountered (not the actual allergen itself), I complied. After about 30 minutes, the Benadryl and nicotine kicked in and my skin settled down. A little bit. Now I'm left with about 15-20 HUGE welts all over my arms and legs. Have no idea what caused it. I've only had anything like that in two different situations - whenever I get stung by a bee (which is why I should have had an EpiPen - and in case anyone ever is with me and I get stung by one, YES, I am very allergic), and ONCE when I was in Venice, Italy and got bitten by some rare but insanely allergic-reaction-inducing mosquito. Since I couldn't recall being stung, the doctor surmised that it was some sort of mosquito.

So that's kind of it, it's been a LONG week!

Cleaned the house from top to bottom this weekend (my roommate and I decided that if there's any sort of bug in the house that caused the reaction, it might be good to wash EVERYTHING in ultra-hot water and get some Borax out), and other than that, I've been taking it somewhat easy. Sorry, no hugely fun stories from the single life. After all, I look like I've got a big old case of leprosy due to this bug-bite saga.

SINCE NO ONE GUESSED IT...

Remember how I held a little contest about the magazine I started subscribing to?

No one guessed it.

So Davis, Party of 3 wins it because she reminded me of it.

The prize? A subscription to said magazine. I mentioned it in a past post and the mention got picked up on by someone remotely related to my editor. He got me some gift subscriptions as prizes, mainly because....he was born in Texas.

That's right, folks. The correct answer?

TEXAS MONTHLY.

Yes, I'm obsessed with Texas. I love that whole darn state. If you put a man in a pair of Wranglers and a Stetson, I dare say I wouldn't kick him outta bed for eatin' crackers. And for the past ten years or so, they've had a magazine for folks JUST LIKE ME.

The cover article? All about...COWBOYS. They just OOZE Americana to me. But its largely a photographic essay, so it's completely clean, Mom.

The movie that was passed around at the sorority house? DEBBIE DOES DALLAS. It was taped on the end of Rain Woman. Rain Woman was gross, but Debbie Does Dallas held off for a good 70 minutes before the "real" stuff got to happenin'. It IS just about the "Citizen Kane" of the porn business. It turned 30 this month.

Anyway, Carrie said "hey Molly, what was that magazine?" first. So the Davis Family gets a subscription. I promise, Carrie - I've never ever ever seen an article about porn other than this month. Every other month is completely clean - seriously, People and US Weekly are WAY more trashy than TM and it really IS good reading.

Carrie, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys...

Waylon Jennings, where have you gone?

Finishing the sentence...

Found this in a magazine, I will fill it in myself to kill some time.

The house I grew up in... was an old house built in 1820, had a fireplace in almost every single room, was very busy, very loud and probably haunted.

When I was a child I wanted to be... an artist. My grandmother is one, and I wanted to be one as well for as long as I can remember. I used to go to her studio when I was young and I felt completely at home.

The moment that changed me for ever... in retrospect, probably the minute I set foot on the UGA campus for the first time. I didn't think I would change that much, but I don't think I even recognize that kid who left Lynchburg in 1997.

My greatest inspiration... is probably the myself that I'd like to be. I haven't really wanted to emulate any one person in particular, but I've always had an idea of where I want to go in life.

My real-life villain... a composite of those people which Julia Cameron calls "the censor" - those that make you think "wait, I can't do this"...sometimes its a family member, sometimes it's a friend, sometimes it's an enemy, sometimes it's a gut feeling that you're trying to stifle. The irony is that sometimes it's also my greatest motivator. You just have to acknowledge the censor and make it work for you.

If I could change one thing about myself... I'd stop cutting in mid-sentence all the time. I talk too much and interrupt when I'm super-excited about the conversation, but I know it pisses people off and I don't want it to affect me like that. Give other people a chance, Molly, you might learn something.

At night I dream of... strange things. I usually forget them the minute I wake up. I really should start keeping a journal by my bed again and just take the first ten minutes when I wake up to write - it really does spur creativity and start the day off on the right foot.

What I see when I look in the mirror... I'm pretty satisfied, and I think I've gotten better with age. But I always see room for improvement, and right now it's the fact that I desperately need a haircut.

My style icon.... just one? Since I'm the one answering the questions, I get one current and one from years past. Current - Sienna Miller. Very easy-going, bohemian style without looking like a dirty hippie and makes blonde hair and blue eyes fun again. Past - Grace Kelly.

My favourite item of clothing... Men's Hanes tank-tops, in the 3pack. They're so comfy, you can layer them and they look decent if you dress them up a little.

I wish I'd never worn... those stupid silver beads that every sorority girl wore back in the late 90's. I just hate them now.

It's not fashionable but I like... boot-cut jeans. I like the skinny cuts too, but I can't get out of bootcuts for long.

You wouldn't know it but I'm very good at... History. Ok, some people know it, I have a huge obsession with history. I am that dork that wants to read the signs on the roadside. I usually don't say anything, and I think I'm going to stop more often and see them.

You may not know it but I'm no good at... higher-level math. I still think maybe I should go audit a calculus class or something - it's not that I CAN'T do it, it's that it actually takes effort and studying. I was a student that just "got" everything else right off the bat, but math is challenging. Probably why I like it a lot.

All my money goes on... art supplies.

If I have time to myself... I paint and draw in front of the TV. Love it.


I drive/ride... I walk a lot. I think it's healthy and great for the environment and I feel better about myself for having done it. I am currently trying to find a Jeep Wrangler, however to actually drive when I have to do so.

My house is... lived-in. I love old furniture, lots of books, and a use for everything. It may not be un-cluttered, but I hate the "right out of a catalog" look - I like my house to say things about me and my personality.

My most valuable possession is... my easel. It was my grandmother's and it's big and beautiful and I don't think you could go and buy it off a rack anywhere.

My favorite building... in Philly: the Art Museum. Old, grand and welcoming. In Boston: any old Comm Ave rowhouse. In Atlanta: the Swan Coach house. In Athens: the UGA president's home. In Lynchburg: the Point of Honor.

Movie heaven... Love Actually, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Singles, and about a thousand others.

A book that changed me... Eat Pray Love. Tells you how to lose the BS and just go DO what you love.

My favorite work of art... I have about a thousand, I'm currently trying to pare it down to 100 to post up here. Overall favorite...one my grandmother did of me and a girl who I grew up with in about 1984.

The last album I bought/downloaded... I didn't BUY it (it was sent to me), but Neil Diamond's new album. AWESOME.

The person who really makes me laugh... Maverick Staylor. I'd never want to date him for other reasons, but he made me realize that I would never be able to marry someone unless they made me laugh on a consistent basis.

The shops I can't walk past... vintage stores, antique stores and used bookshops. I'm more like my maternal grandmother than I knew.

The best invention ever... sorry, TMI - Tampax and the Pill. Not just for my own use (because lets be honest, I'm not necessarily in need of the latter these days), but because they've liberated women in a bigger sense than many know.

In ten years time, I hope to be... content and happy.

My greatest regret... is having paid way too much attention to what people thought of me earlier in my life. It never got me anywhere, and I just ended up more unhappy with myself. It's quite liberating to say "see ya later" to those that don't agree with the way you want to live your life.

My life in seven words... Fun, creative, inspired, fortunate, observant, exciting, humorous.

Absolute Hilarity: White kids dancing at an 80's prom.

I don't know who thought this up, but it may be better than "The Dark Side of Oz".



One last thought after watching this for the tenth time: if I had grown up in a town where dancing was forbidden by the man who would go on to play an alien on 3rd Rock from the Sun, I would be a little uncoordinated on my first attempt if the ban were to be lifted. Apparently, these kids were not uncoordinated, they just had crazy moves. Who knew?

Happy Birthday, US of A...

For the first time since I've lived here, I'm spending the Fourth of July in Philadelphia, mere blocks from where our founding fathers signed that famous document 232 years ago today. I can't even imagine how freaking HOT it was on that day - a few dozen men crammed in a tiny little room in Independence Hall, all wearing powdered wigs and longstockings underneath their wool suits in the days before Degree anti-perspirant and air-conditioning - all waiting to risk their lives simply by signing a piece of paper. That piece of paper, written by Virginia's most famous and well-loved resident, not to mention my most famous ancestor, Mr Thomas Jefferson, said things that we now consider to be a no-brainer - that all men are created equal, that we are all entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Kudos, Mr Jefferson, thanks for the words.

John Hancock, as well as those that were in line after him that day on 5th and Chestnut Streets, were the first in a long line of those willing to lay down their lives if need be for a purpose that they considered to be greater than themselves. I saw a broadcast of a profile on a World War II veteran who was selected to be the grand marshal of today's parade in Millville, Pennsylvania, and as soon as the video becomes available, I will post it. It reminded me of how I was telling a friend of mine recently that I often think that I'm still single because very few men could ever live up to my granddad. While it's a cliche, I'm pretty certain that God broke the mold when he made him - the story I saw was additional proof that they just don't make them like that anymore.

But for now, here's another little tribute to our troops - when I came back from being abroad for a summer, this song was coincidentally playing on my iPod as the plane touched down on American soil. Still makes me proud to be an American every time I hear it. Like your fireworks today? Thank a veteran!