Phishr Chronicles

Tahlequah City Hospital (TCH), not to be confused with the “Indian Hospital” right behind it that prescribes snake root and whiskey, is unbelievable. In my time in that town I made 6 or so trips to that place. Mainly due to my knee. I have never, NEVER EVER EVER had a peaceful experience there.

Part One - Natty the Cat.

I had a fraternity brother (Browneye) that owned this cat. Ironically, this cat also ”owned” me.  We were all watching a baseball game one night and I was on the floor, laying down on my back in front of the television. Natty came up by my head and started doing that one stupid thing those felines do spreading their smell on you by grinding up against you. The cat was doing that to the top of my head. I began scratching the cat as I stayed focus on the game.

Browneye, “I wouldn’t mess with the cat dude, he’s crazy”.

I rolled my eyes up and looked at the cat standing by my head.

WAP!

I flinched the moment I saw the paw.

This cat just slapped me in the eye. Thank god he’d had his claws removed.

I sat up and turned around and gave Browneye the “What the hell did I ever do to it?!” look.

 Browneye’s facial expression was priceless. Resembles a deer in headlights.

I shot at him, “What?”

His fiancee turned her head really quick and looked away.

Then I felt the blood.

I stood up and rushed to the bathroom. There in the mirror was my eyelid cut completely through.

“ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod”…

My cousin “Fat” drove me to the emergency room. Of course I sat in a vacant waiting room with an open optical injury and wait.  “I wonder if I can read these magazines THROUGH THE FLAP IN MY EYE!!” I was admitted. Fat went back with me. We are lead into this joint room. I’m on my back on a table waiting for doc when I start hearing the most revolting noise ever. Thick dry heaves from an old man on the other side of the curtain. And it stunk like sour. I am now trying to keep “Fat” talking to me so I don’t get distracted by Sir Upchuck McCookietosser chilling next to me.

 I hate eyes. I can’t even stand watching someone put contacts in. Everytime I blinked I felt the flap. Everytime I felt the flap my breath got shallow. Everytime I got shallow, slaughterguts next bed was splattering and heaving. This in turn made me queasy. An pirate patch wasn’t sounding to bad about this time. I start to get testy.

Doctor, “Mr. Fisher, what seems to be the problem”

I hear, “What happened here dickhead”?

“A feline cut my eye open, I hate eyes, I’m bleeding, he’s puking, and this is taking too long already”.

He asked me if I’ve ever had a tetanus shot. Don’t these people have my medical records? Mother fucker I’m in the hospital twice a year. They trust me with my own needle!

The doctor lays me down and I’m staring at the light above me as he inspects the wound. All my senses were focused on the smell of the “latex” gloves and seeing Fat out of the corner of my eye making gross faces.  

He takes a high gauged needle and heads for my eye.

 ”HELL NO! NO! NO! NO! NOT IN MY EYE! YOU HAVE TO KNOCK ME OUT RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Doctor started getting mad. “You need to act like a man and relax.”

Did he really just say that? Hey asshole, you tend to flinch when a needle is jammed around your eye. ..

“Hey doc, I really can’t do this, I hate eyes, this is too much for me to han….”

The doctor got pissed, “YOU BETTER HOLD STILL! Toughen up and take it! I can’t do this with you acting like a little girl! GROW UP!”

Then Fat chimed in, “Yeah dude, grow up and quit acting a bitch”.  I whimpered.  There’s something about feeling the thread tug at your eyelid and make that suction popping sound when the eyelid is pulled from the actual eyeball.

I got no “make me goofy” pills. EVEN for the Post tramatic stress I went through. All I got was a punkass doctor, and a vision obstruction for days upon days.

Little did I know, that would not be the first time that damn place did me in.