I don't know if you've read the first hospital story, but if you haven't, This is Part 1 and this is Part 2 .

Neither of these are necessary reading as they happened after this one and are really just there to showcase how damn tough I am. If you don't feel like reading them, you can just take my word for it because upvotes don't count on older posts and I'd rather you saved your upvotes for this one.

Alright, let's get to it

Ever since I was a kid, I got the occasional attack of hives. Nobody can figure out what I'm allergic to, so it's kind of a crap shoot as to when I would break out. I kind of think it's stress related, but there have been lots of outbreaks when there was no known stress involved.

I couldn't find any pictures of me, but here's one from Wikipedia.

(image source)

This took place after I had first moved from Ontario to Chilliwack, BC in probably 1999. I was taking my first solo run with a new company and it was all fresh learning. Other than my training period, I hadn't really run any flat deck trailers and now I had a step-deck load going to the eastern states from the Vancouver area.

It was -30ºC(-22ºF) when I crossed the border from Montana into North Dakota I was pretty tired, so I pulled into the weigh station near Beach, ND. It was closed, so I drove past the scalehouse and parked. You always go past the scalehouse, so that when you wake up you can go and not worry about them busting you for your bullshit log book.

When I woke up it was the next morning.

I think.

I couldn't see because my eyes were swollen shut and it was snowing pretty hard. 'Fucking hives', I thought to myself. I couldn't get my sneakers on because my feet were too swollen, so I put my rubber boots on and waddled to the scalehouse which was now open. I was looking through a couple of slitholes in my face and walking on the sides of my boots because the soles of my feet hurt so bad.

(sort of like these ones)

When I got into the scale the two operators just looked at me and gasped.

"Holy shit dude. You look messed up."

"Yeah, I broke out in hives. Can someone take me to the hospital, I can feel it on my neck and if it starts to constrict my throat I could be in trouble. I can barely see or walk."

"Man, there ain't a hospital within an hour of here. You'll have to just keep heading east until you get to Dickinson."

"I don't think I should drive in this condition. Is there any chance one of you guys could take me? I can pay you. Or is there maybe an ambulance?"

"No, we aren't allowed to leave here and the ambulance is at the hospital, so it would take them an hour to get here anyhow. If you take it easy, you should get there okay."

I shrugged and turned around. "Fuck it, I guess I take my chances," I said as I walked out the door.

"Good luck." One of the operators said as I hobbled out the door.

I still laugh about the two guys whose sole job is the safety enforcement of commercial vehicles, allowing, nay, suggesting a driver who is obviously impaired, drive an hour under very dangerous conditions to get medical help.

I sure hope it works out.

(Just kidding. I already know what happens.)

So I hopped in the truck and got going. It was pretty shitty weather out and the highway was completely snow covered and compact. After an hour I started to see exits for Dickinson and the hospital signs.

(That was the trip.)

I turned off at the exit and saw a Walmart, so I pulled in there and parked. As I was getting out of the truck a guy was getting out of his car. He explained that he had been honking and trying to pull me over for more than twenty miles and was trying to tell me that I had tire troubles.

I walked back and looked at my trailer. One set of tires had the brakes frozen on and were now missing the bottoms. Don't worry, they weren't empty. The snow from the highway had filled them up totally full and they seemed to be sliding along quite nicely.

I thanked the guy through my puffy lips and called Rudy. I told him I was going to get a cab to the hospital and that the trailer needed two tires and told him where it was. I then called a cab and went into Walmart and bought some Benadryl. I ate four of them and waited for the cab.

When I got to the hospital I was put through and then given a couple of shots and told to lie on a gurney.

When I woke up I was much improved.

I went to get booked out and they handed me a $380 bill. It seemed like a lot for two shots of epinephrine, two Benadryl, and a gurney nap, but I had to pay it. If I hadn't slept on the gurney for two hours, I would have saved $180, so you live and learn. Then I grabbed a cab back to Walmart.

What I learned is to not buy Benadryl before going to the hospital in the States and if you do, don't eat four of them first. You can sleep in the truck for free.

Well, free for me. It cost Rudy $800 for two used tires and a callout on a Sunday.

Thanks for reading and probably upvoting. I mean really, why wouldn't you? It's got all the elements of a great story. Humour, a harrowing winter drive, near-death experience, bungling fools, blown tires, and love.

Oh shit, I forgot to tell you about the love.

I didn't have any cash, so I had to give the cabby a handjob behind the Walmart dumpster.

This is entered in Comedy Open Mic Round 7 and I nominate @wilfredn and @agrestic to join in.