You Asked For It, You Got It

Quite a while back, several of you agreed that you’d like to read the story of Katy’s Most Embarrassing Moment. One reader, Mary Anne (whom I’ve known since earliest childhood…), felt certain that the moment involved St. Joseph’s Hospital, circa a really long time ago.

Bingo! We have a winner! I’m not sure Mary Anne was specific enough in her guess, however, as I have actually endured COUNTLESS embarassing moments at or approaching the premises of St. Joseph’s Hospital, including but not limited to the time my doctor asked if he could invite a roomful of medical students to observe while he examined me.

Not being completely in my right mind (like THAT surprises you!), I said yes, amiable sort that I am. Back in the day, medical students were almost exclusively men. In this case, they were all men. About 17 of them, if I remember right. Why I imagined Dr. Barnett was just going to demonstrate to the fellows how to use a blood pressure cuff, I have no idea.

Before they finally exited my room, I knew the full meaning of “semi-private.” Those guys had seen things my husband had only imagined. But I digress.

My very most embarrassing moment occurred when I was, as Billy Crystal would say, only mostly dead.

During my twenties, I had…episodes. Honestly, a diagnosis of my condition was never arrived at, and remains a mystery to this day. I would, for no apparent reason, have a sudden onset of terrible diarrhea and throwing up. A red rash covered my body, my lips turned white, and my extremities turned blue, making quite a fashion statement as they matched my eyes. Then my eyes rolled back in my head and closed as I fainted dead away, making the stunning color coordination much less impressive.

I guess I had a seizure disorder of some kind, I don’t know. Doug witnessed me having these attacks, and they involved foaming at the mouth, rigidity, and sometimes an apparent absence of breathing, which freaked him out a little.

Anyway, this one night it all came down while I was checking groceries at Thriftway. I’d left two crying babies at home, which had me a bit stressed out, and then I’d gotten chewed out by the manager for taking a customer’s bad check. I started feeling iffy and asked the girl at the next counter if the lights were dimming.

“Um…no,” she said.

“I’ve got to run to the back,” I said, leaving a line of customers behind. I recognized the numbness in my hands and feet as the definitive sign that, for me, something good was NOT about to happen.

I hung out in the bathroom for a while, but then came to my senses enough to realize I had to call Doug to come get me. After I used the pay phone to call home, things got dicey fast. He packed up the children and brought them to the grocery store (they’d already been put to bed), where (fortunately) he saw a friend of ours and handed the kids over.

By the time he found me in the bathroom, I had probably passed out and come to several times. I would regain consciousness just long enough to…um…use the facilites and then lose it again.

He tried to get me up and walking, thinking maybe he could get me home, but even at 117 pounds, my dead weight was too much for him. So he used that pay phone to call an ambulance.

I had one, and I mean ONLY ONE, lucid moment before the ambulance arrived. During that moment, I realized that while I’d been passed out, I had made a terrible mess of my underwear.

“Doug,” I said, with the last ounce of decorum I possessed, “you’ve got to help me. Get these jeans off of me, throw away my underwear, and get the jeans back on me.”

No sooner did the words leave my mouth, than I passed out again. My dear husband, though, did my bidding. Of course, I had no memory of it the next time I rallied for thirty seconds. The paramedics arrived and laid me out like a corpse on the cold concrete floor of the back room. They cut through my (cute) shirt, which had perfectly operable buttons, and my (new) bra, the likes of which I wouldn’t be able to afford for another year. I mean, how often does a broke chick come by ninety-eight cents?

One of them attached electrodes to my chest while the others kept taking turns trying to get a blood pressure reading. They decided their equipment must be faulty, since I had no discernable blood pressure, and how could THAT be?? Just in case it was me and not the equipment, though, they kept exchanging dire looks like they were worried they had a catastrophe on their hands.

Did you know a chick can talk with no blood pressure? No discernable blood pressure for THREE HOURS?

As a dreadful case of hypothermia (whether from the concrete floor or my own near-death condition, I don’t know. Only God knows…) set in, the paramedics continued to hack away at my remaining clothing. The one called Fiona (yes, I remember her name…) unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so they could do…whatever.

And that’s when Chatty Katy kicked back in with the line that will haunt my floozy self for the rest of my days.

“Good thing I remembered to wear clean underwear.”

People!! I had totally forgotten that Doug had removed my ruined underwear! And I’m pretty sure, when I made the classic underwear crack that EVERYONE makes when they end up in an ambulance, I WINKED at a couple paramedics!!! (And I ain’t talkin’ Fiona.)

It wasn’t until several days into my two-week hospital stay, when my sisters brought me a gift of a new bra and matching panties, that I regained any cognizance of these events.

“I remember they cut off my bra,” I said, “but why are you bringing me panties?”

“Don’t you remember telling the paramedics that it was a good thing you wore clean panties?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, you told us Doug had taken them off…”

The moral of this story, dear readers, is to NOT DO THE STUFF I’VE DONE! And when in any doubt about the location and condition of your panties, just play dead.

Posted by Katy on 01/24/08 at 08:02 AM

Fallible Comments...

snort - thanks for sharing! You could write an entire comedy book on your experiences with the medical profession. :)
Posted by Carrie K. on 01/24/08 at 02:23 PM
Oh, Katy! I am ROFLOL (almost literally) at this post! You are a complete, wonderful NUT! Don't ever stop! ; )
Posted by Deb Raney on 01/24/08 at 02:39 PM
That was hysterical!!! Thanks for sharing
Posted by laura on 01/25/08 at 01:03 PM
I don't know if I'll be able to look you in the face again! But anyway, I've got an embarrassing moment that really can't compare with yours, but it ended up with me going off my diet and back into therapy. I'll tell you that story sometime. But basically, after having been through childbirth twice, and some pretty serious complications after the second one, nothing really embarrasses me any more. I barely know modesty when I see it. I know my kids wish I embarrassed more easily. Then they wouldn't have to chaperone me at the office Christmas parties.
Posted by Alison on 01/25/08 at 05:28 PM
I was right about this one....if you remember right, I worked at St Joseph Hospital when you spent 2 weeks with us. I recall most of the circumstances of your situation..we were all very worried about you. Whatever was causing these unpleasant episodes, I'm very glad for your sake they are in the past.
Posted by Mary Anne Green on 01/30/08 at 11:29 AM
quote , I’d gotten chewed out by the manager for taking a customer’s bad check.

Happened to me once :)
Posted by ed hardy on 02/13/08 at 06:34 PM
Wow, that was a nice way of introducing yourself to somebody, sharing the most embarassing moment, at least that was how i met your blog. Keep up your writings. :)
Posted by medical on 02/26/08 at 02:02 AM
I agree with the comment from medical. This is definitely an introduction that I won't forget. I think we all have had our embarrassing moments. Thanks for sharing, you are much braver than I am.
Posted by Celebrity Foods on 02/29/08 at 08:19 PM
This is just another reason why I like your website. I like your style of writing you tell your stories without out sending us to 5 other sites to complete the story.
Posted by How to lose weight on 09/22/09 at 02:30 PM
I was at school today and I came to the conclusion that everybody there falls into some sort of category. Nobody dresses really uniquely or stands out. All the colors people wear are dull and boring. But anyways, how does someone go about standing out and making a fashion statement at the same time?
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Posted by tuxedo trousers on 10/18/09 at 11:44 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	You Asked For It, You Got It Quite a while back, several of you agreed that you’d like to read the story of Katy’s Most Embarrassing Moment. One reader, Mary Anne (whom I’ve known since earliest childhood…), felt certain that the moment involved St. Joseph’s Hospital, circa a really long time ago. Bingo! We have a winner! I’m not sure Mary Anne was specific enough in her guess, however, as I have actually endured COUNTLESS embarassing moments at or approaching the premises of St. Joseph’s Hospital, including but not limited to the time my doctor asked if he could invite a roomful of medical students to observe while he examined me. Not being completely in my right mind (like THAT surprises you!), I said yes, amiable sort that I am. Back in the day, medical students were almost exclusively men. In this case, they were all men. About 17 of them, if I remember right. Why I imagined Dr. Barnett was just going to demonstrate to the fellows how to use a blood pressure cuff, I have no idea. Before they finally exited my room, I knew the full meaning of “semi-private.” Those guys had seen things my husband had only imagined. But I digress. My very most embarrassing moment occurred when I was, as Billy Crystal would say, only mostly dead. During my twenties, I had…episodes. Honestly, a diagnosis of my condition was never arrived at, and remains a mystery to this day. I would, for no apparent reason, have a sudden onset of terrible diarrhea and throwing up. A red rash covered my body, my lips turned white, and my extremities turned blue, making quite a fashion statement as they matched my eyes. Then my eyes rolled back in my head and closed as I fainted dead away, making the stunning color coordination much less impressive. I guess I had a seizure disorder of some kind, I don’t know. Doug witnessed me having these attacks, and they involved foaming at the mouth, rigidity, and sometimes an apparent absence of breathing, which freaked him out a little. Anyway, this one night it all came down while I was checking groceries at Thriftway. I’d left two crying babies at home, which had me a bit stressed out, and then I’d gotten chewed out by the manager for taking a customer’s bad check. I started feeling iffy and asked the girl at the next counter if the lights were dimming. “Um…no,” she said. “I’ve got to run to the back,” I said, leaving a line of customers behind. I recognized the numbness in my hands and feet as the definitive sign that, for me, something good was NOT about to happen. I hung out in the bathroom for a while, but then came to my senses enough to realize I had to call Doug to come get me. After I used the pay phone to call home, things got dicey fast. He packed up the children and brought them to the grocery store (they’d already been put to bed), where (fortunately) he saw a friend of ours and handed the kids over. By the time he found me in the bathroom, I had probably passed out and come to several times. I would regain consciousness just long enough to…um…use the facilites and then lose it again. He tried to get me up and walking, thinking maybe he could get me home, but even at 117 pounds, my dead weight was too much for him. So he used that pay phone to call an ambulance. I had one, and I mean ONLY ONE, lucid moment before the ambulance arrived. During that moment, I realized that while I’d been passed out, I had made a terrible mess of my underwear. “Doug,” I said, with the last ounce of decorum I possessed, “you’ve got to help me. Get these jeans off of me, throw away my underwear, and get the jeans back on me.” No sooner did the words leave my mouth, than I passed out again. My dear husband, though, did my bidding. Of course, I had no memory of it the next time I rallied for thirty seconds. The paramedics arrived and laid me out like a corpse on the cold concrete floor of the back room. They cut through my (cute) shirt, which had perfectly operable buttons, and my (new) bra, the likes of which I wouldn’t be able to afford for another year. I mean, how often does a broke chick come by ninety-eight cents? One of them attached electrodes to my chest while the others kept taking turns trying to get a blood pressure reading. They decided their equipment must be faulty, since I had no discernable blood pressure, and how could THAT be?? Just in case it was me and not the equipment, though, they kept exchanging dire looks like they were worried they had a catastrophe on their hands. Did you know a chick can talk with no blood pressure? No discernable blood pressure for THREE HOURS? As a dreadful case of hypothermia (whether from the concrete floor or my own near-death condition, I don’t know. Only God knows…) set in, the paramedics continued to hack away at my remaining clothing. The one called Fiona (yes, I remember her name…) unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so they could do…whatever. And that’s when Chatty Katy kicked back in with the line that will haunt my floozy self for the rest of my days. “Good thing I remembered to wear clean underwear.” People!! I had totally forgotten that Doug had removed my ruined underwear! And I’m pretty sure, when I made the classic underwear crack that EVERYONE makes when they end up in an ambulance, I WINKED at a couple paramedics!!! (And I ain’t talkin’ Fiona.) It wasn’t until several days into my two-week hospital stay, when my sisters brought me a gift of a new bra and matching panties, that I regained any cognizance of these events. “I remember they cut off my bra,” I said, “but why are you bringing me panties?” “Don’t you remember telling the paramedics that it was a good thing you wore clean panties?” “Yeah…” “Well, you told us Doug had taken them off…” The moral of this story, dear readers, is to NOT DO THE STUFF I’VE DONE! And when in any doubt about the location and condition of your panties, just play dead. Posted by Katy on 01/24/08 at 08:02 AM Fallible Comments... snort - thanks for sharing! You could write an entire comedy book on your experiences with the medical profession. :) Posted by Carrie K. on 01/24/08 at 02:23 PM Oh, Katy! I am ROFLOL (almost literally) at this post! You are a complete, wonderful NUT! Don't ever stop! ; ) Posted by Deb Raney on 01/24/08 at 02:39 PM That was hysterical!!! Thanks for sharing Posted by laura on 01/25/08 at 01:03 PM I don't know if I'll be able to look you in the face again! But anyway, I've got an embarrassing moment that really can't compare with yours, but it ended up with me going off my diet and back into therapy. I'll tell you that story sometime. But basically, after having been through childbirth twice, and some pretty serious complications after the second one, nothing really embarrasses me any more. I barely know modesty when I see it. I know my kids wish I embarrassed more easily. Then they wouldn't have to chaperone me at the office Christmas parties. Posted by Alison on 01/25/08 at 05:28 PM I was right about this one....if you remember right, I worked at St Joseph Hospital when you spent 2 weeks with us. I recall most of the circumstances of your situation..we were all very worried about you. Whatever was causing these unpleasant episodes, I'm very glad for your sake they are in the past. Posted by Mary Anne Green on 01/30/08 at 11:29 AM quote , I’d gotten chewed out by the manager for taking a customer’s bad check. Happened to me once :) Posted by ed hardy on 02/13/08 at 06:34 PM Wow, that was a nice way of introducing yourself to somebody, sharing the most embarassing moment, at least that was how i met your blog. Keep up your writings. :) Posted by medical on 02/26/08 at 02:02 AM I agree with the comment from medical. This is definitely an introduction that I won't forget. I think we all have had our embarrassing moments. Thanks for sharing, you are much braver than I am. Posted by Celebrity Foods on 02/29/08 at 08:19 PM This is just another reason why I like your website. I like your style of writing you tell your stories without out sending us to 5 other sites to complete the story. Posted by How to lose weight on 09/22/09 at 02:30 PM I was at school today and I came to the conclusion that everybody there falls into some sort of category. Nobody dresses really uniquely or stands out. All the colors people wear are dull and boring. But anyways, how does someone go about standing out and making a fashion statement at the same time? <a href="http://www.finetuxedos.com/Page/tuxedo-trousers.htm/">tuxedo trousers</a> Posted by tuxedo trousers on 10/18/09 at 11:44 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Hello Mother, Hello Fodder Previous entry: Out Of The Mouths Of Wives << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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You Asked For It, You Got It

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri