Not sure that this is the kind of adventure just described, but I learned soon after moving to Memphis that I was terribly allergic to cotton dust. And in the fall, when the gin across the highway went into full gear, my life became a misery of used tissues, near-constant nosebleeds and sinus infections. At times even while teaching class blood would spontaneously gush forth, much to the amusement of my students. Very fortunately, after a couple of visits to the local doctor (Dr. Clark, who also happened to be president of the School Board at the time), I was prescribed the magic bullet of Ornade, which kept the condition in check.
The summer of '84, after my first year at Memphis, I went on a journey around the country in my Olds Delta 88. I went to the east coast first, then migrating to the upper midwest where I visited an uncle in Illinois, Jon and Betty Mayer in Michigan (story from which was posted 08/17), and my grandmother in Kansas City. It was a good trip, and free of the tortuous allergy suffered in Memphis.
About four days after returning to Memphis I awoke one night to discover that a good portion of my pillowcase was covered with blood and realized that I'd forgotten to start the Ornade. Too late now, however, as blood was draining at a fair pace. Remaining in bed, I tried the usual remedies to stem the flow, to no avail.
After a few minutes without success I thought, Well, no use getting everything around me here all bloody, so I went into the bathroom, sat down in front of the toilet and allowed the blood to drain in there. And when I say drain I don't mean drip, drip, drip - it was flowing in a stream, turning the water a crimson red. Soon enough I began to feel dizzy and light headed, even though I was sitting on the floor. This was getting serious! Then the thought occurred to me that I might well bleed out and die, and I sure as heck didn't want to be discovered dead with my head drooping into a toilet bowl. Thus motivated, I decided to get up while I could, hold a rag to my nose so as not to bloody my car, and drive to get help. In a desperate measure I took an Ornade on the way out, knowing that it might take a while to kick in.
In those days Memphis had a hospital just off of Hwy 287 a short distance north of town. (In fact, after this hospital closed a few years later it was mentioned in Time magazine as part of a growing trend of such closures in rural America.) I pulled in, parked next the emergency room, and approached the door.
Now you would think that a hospital emergency room would be open to the public, but the door was locked that night, perhaps as a security measure because it was about 1:30 a.m. I knocked firmly, but there was no answer. I knocked even more firmly, but again there was no answer. To the left of the door was one of these narrow windows allowing a peek inside; from there I could see the shadow of a nurse moving around inside, but my attempts to get her attention had so far failed. I knocked yet again with no answer.
I was getting weaker by the moment and something had to be done, so I rared back my arm and slammed against that window with my fist, shattering it. This time I might get somewhere! Sure enough, the nurse came out and briskly approached the door to see what the ruckus was about. Fortunately the window was one of those that had chicken wire sandwiched in, so it stayed in place but the cracks could easily be seen where my fist made contact.
The nurse didn't seem to notice the damage and opened the door. Upon seeing the blood I was ushered into an examining room and told her the whole story. (There was a little concern, however, when she asked me how to spell "Ornade".) She went through the usual tilt-the-head-back remedy type stuff, but none of it worked. Finally the medicine began to kick in and it slowed to a trickle, then a drip. In spite of my weakness I knew the worst was over and just left, sleeping off the night on a freshly-changed pillow case.
Even though the hospital is long-closed down, the building is still there and it occurs to me that maybe I should stop by sometime to see if the glass next to that door still has the evidence of that night's adventure...
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