My night started at a homeless shelter and ended in the E.R.
Eric wanted to go to the Gay 90’s because Sunday is that club’s busiest night. I spent most of the weekend working and moving to the new apartment, so I figured a random Sunday night at the club was warranted.
Our night started at the Minneapolis homeless shelter where we met up with Tee, who was just getting off work. (Eric volunteers at the shelter, and Tee works there full time.)
Tee insisted that she could not go to the clubhouse wearing jeans, so we took a long detour to Tee’s house where she threw on her House of Dereon dress…
I thought the night was over when we left the club, but I was wrong.
I’m walking across Hennepin Avenue with what felt like the entire hiphop room of the Gay 90’s, when I hear popping sounds.
People scream and start running.
I feel something hit my back.
I stop on the curb and call over to T.
Me: “I think I got hit.”
Tee: “Shut up, where?”
(I lift up the back of my shirt and point.)
Tee: “OH MY GOD, they got you! They shot you!”
Me: “It’s a gunshot?”
Tee: “YES! THEY GOT YOU! (then to the street) HE GOT SHOT!”
I think, “Well that’s a new one...Okay, I’m not paralyzed, so I better get to a police officer before I pass out.”
I run back across Hennepin to the cops standing on the corner.
Me: “Hey Officer,”
(Officers look at me like I’m nuts)
Me: “I think I got shot.”
(I turn around and pull up my shirt.)
Officer: “Yep. Sit down. We’ll call the ambulance.”
Tee crosses the street and starts prodding my wound for the bullet. She keeps repeating that she thinks it just grazed me. I call mom.
Mom: “Huh?”
Me: “Hey, I just got shot.”
Mom: “You just got what?”
Me: “I just got shot.”
Mom: Where?”
Me: “In front of a club.”
Mom: “Why are you out on a Sunday?”
More police come. A stranger brings me a bottle of water.
Stranger: “You are shaking because you’re losing blood. That’s why you have to drink a lot of water.”
I found out that the lady stayed and prayed for me after I left…
So it’s around 2:30 a.m. on a Monday and I’m sitting downtown bleeding on the side of the street. Random people coming from clubs stop as they see the blood coming from my back. This isn’t cute. I had a pretty good idea that I was going to miss this morning’s civil procedure class…
The ambulance comes and the paramedics spend time stabbing me with needles and tubes, and ask if I have any allergies every five minutes.
I arrive at the E.R. and meet a team of people who will stab me with more tubes and ask whether I have allergies 10 more times.
A nurse then tells me that they are going to have to take off all my clothes. Do I have a problem with that?
Me: “I have a bullet in my back. It’s not the time for modesty.”
A few minutes later I’m covered with those wash-rag-like hospital blankets.
A homicide detective comes in and asks me a few questions.
I remind him that I’m not a homicide case yet, and that it was probably stray bullet. No, I didn’t get into a fight with anyone. No, I’m not a drug dealer or shady character. It’s not my fault, I swear.
I then get put into a room, get more tubes, and explain that I don’t have allergies a few more times.
Nurse: “We can’t tell through tests whether your lung was popped. Lung deflation is the biggest concern right now… so we are just going to have you wait for four hours and see what happens! Also, pee in this cup. We need to check if you have blood in your urine…”
Dandy.
Eric and Tee waited with me. I told them that as long as I wasn’t paralyzed that I was fine.
I just hoped that I would get out of the hospital in time to walk Harley and that this wouldn’t interfere with finals.
I also said that I didn’t mind the number they did on my shirt because I would have never gotten the blood off anyway:
Throughout the night the doctor kept vacillating between taking the bullet out and leaving it inside of me.
She finally decided to leave the bullet be, so yes I’m attending Crimlaw tomorrow with a bullet lodged in my back…
The getting shot part didn’t hurt at all because the bullet lodged right under my skin. It just felt like a hard slap on the back.
What did hurt however was when the doctor put new dressings on:
Getting shot in Minneapolis.
Oh, and when the doctor rinsed the gunshot wound it was awful. That “oh my god, why?” pain. We’ll see how I do tomorrow…
Tee has two tweens at home, so she had to leave around 4 a.m. Eric stayed with me the rest of the night. We were both cranky when I was finally let out around 9am.
I felt so trashy leaving the hospital.
The doctors cut through my shirt and undershirt at the E.R., so I was only wearing my blazer and still sporting the test/scan stickers across my chest. And yes, the blazer has a bullet hole in it.
It was not one my classier moments.
The first thing I did when I got back to the apartment was take Harley on a walk. I had been gone for almost 11 hours and fully expected to find a mastiff-sized crap in the middle of my bed…but Harley was in front of the door wagging his tail. No crap in site.
Best dog ever.
I was on the phone for most of the walk. I talked to the police, the law school, family in Germany, classmates.
I’m going to pick up my books from school whenever I get up (I’ve been awake for about 29 hours)…and I should be in class tomorrow!
Just don’t pat me on the back. Thanks.
