700th Posting: National Health Scare

What a lovely evening. Had super time at the Loaves and Fishes fundraiser. Beautiful weather and lovely sangria. Topping the evening off with a light meal at Timpanos, right in the heart of wonderful downtown Naperville. Aahhh. Urh. Actually come to think of it, I'm feeling a little odd. My stomach's churning, feeling lightheaded. Uh oh. I recognize this feeling. I'm going to faint.
"Are you going?" says Grumpy nonchalantly. He's quite used to this scenario. Little prone to fainting I am, particularly on a warm day when I've used sangria to cool myself off.
"I need to lie down," I hiss. "Right now." I gracefully slide under the table as Grumpy rushes to pop a folded up napkin under my head. Like a night in a cheap hotel.
The restaurant is so clean you could eat off the floor. I know, because I'm looking at the floor really close up now. Might just doze for a little while. I'll be fine. My snooze is woken by the familiar phrase: "Shall I call for an ambulance?"
"Oh no," I say, although no words seem to come out. "I'm fine. I'll come round in a minute and might stop for an ice cream on the way home."
But within seconds, there is is. The red flashing lights. A man in a uniform leers down at me.
"How old are you?" he's asking. (I'm asked this question a gazillion times during the following two hours. Not once did someone have the respect to say 'really? You look so young." but I gave out my birth date so many times I'm sure I'll be due a good crop of cards next year.
"What's the name of the president?"
"What?" I'm lying on the floor and they want to play Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
I'm able to tell them, but somehow it doesn't sound right in an English accent.
Suddenly I'm heading out of the door on a gurney. Despite my hope that we'd be able to escape without paying the check, Grumpy is no where to be seen so he's probably arguing about some aspect of it to the manager.
We're in the ambulance now. I've wires coming out of me, a drip on my arm and an oxygen mask on my face. The ambulanceman is asking me rude questions about how much I've had to drink but its difficult to snap back with a mask over your face. Probably why they put it there.
Now we're going full pelt through the ER at Edward Hospital. It's just like ER on TV except really posh with hardly anyone there. I'm pushed into a cubicle where nurses and a doctor come in.
"I'd like to see George Clooney," I say in my head. "If you're thinking of sending me House don't bother, he's really an English comedian you know. Terrible doctor, although a pretty mean pianist."
A barrage of tests begins. I start shaking as if I'm on one of those vibrating beds in a cheap motel. I'm assured this is purely adrenalin kicking in after my adventure, but to be honest I'm not that excited.
The nurses decide to use my arms for target practise and a handsome young man (I'm not that out of it) comes to monitor my heart.
"My initials are actually EKG," he laughs, administering the EKG.
"No!" I laugh, mentally taking out my notebook. "What's your name?"
"Eric Kurt and my surname begins with G," he says mysteriously. Terrified of lawsuits these medics.
Grumpy appears, completely unfazed by my predicament because he's so thrilled he could park right by the front door.
I'm feeling so much better now. I could just leap off the bed and run home. But I've so many wires and leads everywhere I'm like Pinocchio before he had his strings cut.
"Push, push," laughs Grumpy recalling an earlier time he saw me in a similar situation.
"Actually, I think my waters may have broken," I confessed. "Although it could be the IV leaking from when they moved me onto here."
Eventually all the tests come back. Dr Denzil Washington tells me all is fine, although I do suffer from discombobliatory woozyfaction, or something like that anyway. Fancy word for dehydration making me fall over. But I have the answer. Next time I'll take my drink laying down.