C'mon partner, answer those questions! You can do it!
Oh gosh, I don't know if I can ever call any day the worst day. I usually bounce back and try to find the good side of things. But I can give you two worst moments that happened pretty close together, so it's almost LIKE a worst day.
Now this is from when I was really,
really sick and had to be in the hospital. A few days before everything happened I had been taken to urgent care after work and I found out that I had spent the entire day under the haze of a 101 degree fever. While getting treated there, my doctor did some blood work and sent it over to the OB at the hospital. That's when they figured out I had a white blood cell count in the low twenties to high teens (I was really foggy then so I can't quite remember what it was. I THINK it was 23. Think.) Well, as you might have guessed, my doctors kind of flipped out about that. So I was basically ordered to report to the hospital to have a blood transfusion.
And this is a tangent, really, but blood transfusions feel really, really, really
weird. Since the donated blood is basically put in a freezer, it's cold. And when it goes into you, it's
still cold. So after they put the needle in and start the drip, you start to feel this thin trail of ice flowing into your arm. One of the truly mostly bizarre sensations I have ever had the displeasure to experience. (Iron transfusions, on the other head, just feel really... prickly. And take FOREVER. Almost four hours for one bag. @_@ Do not get one unless you really have to.)
In any case, since blood transfusions take about two and a half hours per bag, even longer if your intake flow is slow, I was pretty much stuck there until about eleven o'clock at night. And while I was lying there, almost finished with the first bag, my mother suddenly started staring at me. At first I thought she was just surprised about something, but then she started to cry. "I had forgotten," she whispered to me "how rosy your cheeks were."
I can't begin to explain just how... wonderfully horrifying that moment was for me. I mean, I know I had gotten pale. But I hadn't realized HOW pale. I pretty much went from a peachy olive color (on a good day) to an alabaster/paper white. And I had been that for so long that own my mother, the woman who had known me since I was eight days old, had forgotten the color of my skin. I think that moment pretty much was when I hit rock bottom. Which is good, in a way, since it meant I could only go up. But still, that look on her face still haunts me at times. I can only think about how hard it must have been for her, and for Lizzie... for all the people I care about who had to watch me slowly go from being me, to turning into this zombie-like creature who woke them up when she started screaming in the dead of night. (Long story short about that, my body was actually starting to have contractions, as in something close to labor pains, to try and get the lining of my uterus out of my body. I do not recommend. >>; )
Anyway, so second worst moment was about a week later when I was rushed to the hospital again. The bleeding hadn't stopped and not even seven days later I had lost all of the blood the hospital had just put back in my body. The OB I was seeing looked me in the eye and basically said this. "We have two choices at this point. I can take it out, or we can scrap the lining. I would prefer to just take it out of you, but you are pretty young, so I guess you might want to keep it, right?" Seeing as I very much want to try and have children some day, I agreed for the scrapping. Seeing as I hadn't eaten pretty much anything that day (I had stopped eating much of anything at that point, I would get so dizzy and nauseous), I was scheduled for a late surgery and to have three more bags of blood put into me to make sure I didn't bleed out during the surgery.
Now here's the awful part. And this story has to deal with needles ladies and gentlemen. If you don't like that, I suggest you skip this next part. We cool? Good. Now seeing as they had to give me more blood, they had to stick a catheter in my arm. Now the nurse who helped me with my first transfusion hit the mark perfectly the first time. On prick in the center of my arm, I was done. These other nurses were not so lucky. My first nurse missed my veins. Twice. After that she called in another nurse who also missed before finally giving up on my inner arm and stuck the needle in lower. After about two hours later, though, the needle started to really hurt. At first I just thought I was imagining things, but then I felt a shooting pain go up my arm. So the nurse came in and flushed it. Half and hour more pain. They flushed it again. When it came back and I was on the point of near tears when they finally moved the needle from my arm to my wrist. Again, I do not recommend this. It really, really smarts.
When it was finally came time to prep me for surgery, they had to put another needle in for the drugs that would put me to sleep. When the nurse came up to put the next IV in I looked up at him and practically begged him to please not miss. He look one look at my left arm, another look at me, and ran to get the anesthesiologist. (I guess I must have looked pretty pathetic. XD Sick Gracie puppy dog eyes!) The anesthesiologist promised he wouldn't miss.
He lied. T.T
He missed my right wrist, I think, and for a moment just stood there staring at me like I was a purple elephant with spots. He then finally apologized and stuck the needle into the little vein right by my elbow. I think I was in tears by this point. >> But seeing as the drugs kicked in about 15 minutes later, that might have been a dream.
The very next day, when I woke up at home, one of the first things I looked at were my arms. Both of them were swollen, and had turned lovely shads of black, blue, purple, green and yellow. It pretty much looked like I had thrown my arms up to protect myself during a beating. o.0; I think in the end, I counted about ten needle marks in my arm, including all the misses. Let's just say that I never want that to happen again. Ever. Ever again.
OKAY. I'm sure you're all bored by my horror stories now!
Onward to the next question.
Hardest character to play? I would say it's hard for me to play a character who does truly evil or monstrous things. Coax and Bartleby can get pretty close to the line I'm not comfortable with, but those two are actually pretty easy for me because they do have a reason for doing what they do. Coax has had her morals twisted and her view of the world is just different. And she also does still love, so she never really feels like a monster for me. And Bee is, well.. Bee. He just doesn't understand why something is wrong half of the time, due to his lower intelligence (I tag him at about a 75 to 70 on the IQ scale), and possible slight retardation. (It's either that or it's suggested that I do play him like a really high functioning autistic. I'll let others be the judge of that, since I have a hard time trying to diagnose him myself.)
I think the one character I could never really play is a rapist. Or if I did, I could NEVER actually write out a scene like that. Not even just showing the beginning. I could maybe hint at it, but that's about it and I would still feel AWFUL about it. To me that's just... one the worst things you can do to a person beyond flat out murdering them, and I just can't. I really, really can't and
won't. So I'm just re-warning anyone who reads this now. I will never judge anyone for wanting to go through that plot, or have their characters grow like that. I just... won't be able to ever help you with that. That's a line I refuse to cross with my writing. I'm sorry.
