We reach the Freehold airport in 10 minutes. Meanwhile I am injected with some sort of pain medication which, like a rolling pin on dough, kneads out my pins and needles. I am still throbbing and burning but now it is acceptable. The pain and I will live together as long as the medication maintains it's current approach with me.
I am lifted out of the Ambulance. I keep my eyes closed because I can see trails and surreal designs under my eyelids from a combination of the sun, the juice and the spinning of the helicopter blades. And then I am hoisted into the helicopter and it prepares to depart.
This sucks. I'm in a helicopter and I can't see out any windows. I am strapped thoroughly into the "stretcher of life" or whatever it's called. The EMT on the copter, true to policy, asks for insurance information.
"I'll tell you if you give me some more medication."
"I can't give you more medication until you tell me."
"What if I don't have any insurance."
"Then you have two choices. You can suffer or we can throw you out the door."
I trade my insurance information for another fix as the EMT's, apparently not having much to do, start talking about something irrelevant to me. This really pisses me off as I have just blown myself up and would like a little more sympathy.
We land at Westchester Medical Center and I am rolled into what looks like a large airplane hanger. I wonder about my job.
(In the next episode, learn about the Hospital Minister and my mother's first reaction to seeing me).
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