Some of what Rita does is on purpose, some is incidental. Her existence is a bane to mine. Today I became suddenly and furiously ill. I hate to go here but if anyone is going to read my stuff, know this, it may often be vulgar, nasty and or disgusting. Poop is a hot topic of the Queen of Evil. Back to my workday, yes, I was at work. It came so fast and watery that my bum-hole hurt, for the rest of the day. I literally had a pain in the ass. This usually indicates food poisoning and as always I think of Rita. However, I suspected the milk, it was about the right amount of time for a food bug to get to that part of my system. Plus the night before we figured out that the refrigerator was at 60', so why, for pete's sake, would I take the milk from my warm refrigerator? Well morning are not my thing, I go into auto mode, but my auto sputters in the morning. So my husband call later to tell me that our fridge is not failing, really, see Rita and Elliot bought fruit cake. Who buys fruit cake in the fricken summer? Who eats fruitcake ever? Well it was cheap and these tarts like it. So they shove their boxed fruitcake into the fridge along with every leftover for two weeks and any thing they can buy at a cheap price. The refrigerator door does not seal apparently with the fruitcake box sticking out over the shelf.

So because of Rita's fruitcake, I had a retching gut, exploding diarrhea, and a sore ass for the rest of the day. She is a pain in the ass.

Rita had surgery last Tuesday, yesterday, which was Monday she awoke ill. She had a hard time breathing, congestive heart failure. Not a big deal for the Queen, she's recovered from that easily at other times. She also had some chest pain, and a great deal of vomiting. She said it looked like old blood. I was at work. Dan called to tell me the news, he said she called blubbering incoherently. He was at work also. He said "Ma, I can't understand a damn thing you're saying". She just stopped crying and screamed "I'm fucking having chest pain and can't quit throwing up". So when I quit laughing, I called her, she was indeed vomiting, loudly. With a bit of prying she said she had taken two nitros for the chest pain, couldn't breath and was throwing up. I told her to call an ambulance, which she did not do. She went to the ER, where they ruled out a heart attack and blood clot. They kept her last night and again tonight. It took that long to run the tests for the clots. I am not too concerned as you can tell, I know her very well. What she did not tell them was that the night before she had a brown cow, which is vanilla ice cream with root beer. Not a small glass either. That was around 5pm. At 6:30 we had dinner, steak, potatoes with gravy, and veggies. Two hours later Elliot brought her a bag of gummy worms, immediately, I'm not kidding, followed by strawberry shortcake topped with a mountain of whipped cream.

Now, you would think that might make a diabetic like the Evil One somewhat ill. But her sugar seemed to be fine. My diagnosis, actually the diagnosis of my very informed co-workers is that she is having a gall bladder attack.

I dragged my sorry sore ass up to the hospital along with my husband. We wanted to know what was discovered. According to Rita and Elliot, nothing was found. They didn't know what was going on or why she had to stay. When asked why she wasn't eating we were told she was nauseous and was afraid to eat. When asked if they were managing her pain, for the knee, she said they were not. Where was her ice pack for the knee they did not know. It is like talking to children. When asked what was going to happen now, they did not know. What the hell! I walked out, to the desk and asked who was the nurse in charge of Rita.

The nurse said Rita did not have chest pain, had not complained of nausea, had not complained of knee pain and as far as she knew they did a doppler to rule out blood clot and an xray. I only spoke to her for no more than 5 minutes, I swear. Within an hour, two ortho residents came to discuss the tests. A regular resident came to discuss all other medications, tests and diagnosis's, further care, and then assured us that they would do the tests for gall bladder 1st thing in the morning. Her surgeon came in, nicely dressed in his jeans and suit jacket, to see if there was anything he could do. I did not threaten anything more than that I would have to call in to work tomorrow to come up there to see what was going on. Apparently, they did not want me to have to miss any work. So Rita is all set, drugged up, happy as a clam, waited on as any mighty Queen must be. Elliot was able to escape, Dan and I can go to work tomorrow without worry. All is well in the Queens queendom.