I am, of course, only joking when I say things like the above. Seriously, if anybody had transcribed a voicepost from 1:50 in the morning I probably would have hit them with a stick while demanding to know what was wrong with them. Unless it was yotogi, at which point I wouldn't be surprised (save that he seems to have the plague this week).
Shortly after ten last night I drove lady_curmudgeon to the hospital Emergency Room. The breathing problem that had plagued her all day had finally intensified to the point that her inhaler and a Prednisone burst couldn't help, and it was time to upgrade to the Professional Grade type stuff, so when she made that decision I dropped everything and grabbed the keys to the Expedition. We waited an hour and change and were finally admitted (the ER on a Saturday night is an interesting place to be and unless you arrive in a stretcher with lights and sirens on your ambulance, you're going to be put in a queue) and met with Cliff, a fellow from Repiratory Therapy. He confirmed the attending doctor's diagnosis and approved the recommended treatment... so at around 12:30 this morning the Curmudgeon began receiving an hour-long nebulizer treatment. The medicine made her pretty jittery at the end, but for her breathing it seems to have done wonders. That's what matters the most.
We were checked out of the ER sometime around 1:43 this morning (roughly five minutes or so before I made the voice post) and proceeded to hit the local 24-hour pancake house (which I think is now infamous to donaldson, joewolfbrother and brianblackberry for various reasons from our last visit there) to get a bite to eat. Curmudgeon wanted it so she could warm up, get her blood sugar back to something aking to normal and, most of all, to try and make the shaking in her arms and hands from the nebulizer treatment stop. Me, I just wanted something to cut the four cups of coffee I was going to drink. Breakfast was served in short order, we ate our fill and paid the bill before boxing up leftovers and heading back to the world's smallest two-bedroom flat.
So that was my Saturday night. Certainly it was a bit more exciting than I needed it to be but everything worked out and Curmudgeon is going to be okay, so I'm happy.