Concern and lost irons -- things that are driving me crazy

So my mother would be quick to tsk, tsk this particular post for several reasons. So I put that warning out there -- don't judge me too harshly.
Two things are making crazy right now.
The first -- I can't find my iron. I've looked every where. My house at a cursory glance is in order (well a very quick glance). But really it's a wreck. Michael moved in with me a few months ago right before I started taking 10 hours of classes and working 40 hours a week. Needless to say, I didn't have a ton of time to get things in order. And admittedly, I have a lot of crap. Most of it isn't worth a cent. I've lived and traveled to several countries and have a lot of mementos I've picked up along the way. Also, I'm a giant pack-rat! So all of those things have contributed to the fact that I can't find my iron.
I've looked everywhere -- dug through closets, looked under beds, unpacked Rubbermaid tubs stacked in the sun room and looked in all the probable spots. No luck! I'm sure a new iron won't cost too much, but I want to find MINE. And I want it now. I've got all the needed supplies for my next project (a present for Evan Otis, it's a surprise) and an iron is required. Bah!
The other thing weighing on me... concern. I know, it seems so sweet and nice and wonderful doesn't it!
Eh... I'm over it.
Am I an ungrateful brat?
I tire, though, of hearing, "Are you OK?" "How are you feeling?"
I know those sentiments are sincere and the asker has the best intentions. I get it. I am Sicky McSickerson. But for weeks after every hospital/ER stay/visit it is a cacophony of these questions/concerns. And then there are others who go even further than the occasional question.
I've had friends who have been on the verge of calling the police or fire department when they couldn't get me on the phone. I have a friend who every time he hears on the police scanner, "woman unconscious at ..." he calls and says, "are you at...?" And if I haven't returned a phone call within 15 minutes instead of thinking, "oh, she must be walking the dog" the first thought is, "Oh no, she's passed out somewhere bleeding. I have to leave work and drive there now!"
I'm sure I'm being hypocritical. I'm the first one to make up a fun comfort package full of crayons, a princess crown, play-doh, plastic bugs and dart guns for a sick co-worker or friend. I'm also the one who organizes the get well card and goes to the hospital to pass along all of our well wishes! And I'm sure I ask the dreaded questions too.
So, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, but I'm OK with it.
As bratty as it sounds, I think the concern bothers me because it reminds me that I'll always be labeled as the sick one. When my Peace Corps friends categorized everyone during our reunion, the joke about me was around the passing out (in Bangladesh is when all this started so they too were exposed to it) and when we came up with jokes about each of the reporters for a joke newsletter mine also was associated with it. I guess I just don't want to be known only as that. I want people to forget about it! (Maybe it'll go away then!)
I'm working on it. I'm working on taking it as it is meant and not getting resentful.
So forgive me if I don't eagerly reply to your concern. I'll try.
And just so you know, I'm feeling kind of crappy right now!

Medical mishaps and why you just have to cry sometimes

So things aren't always that exciting, and I don't know if I would classify this week as "exciting," but it was certainly eventful.
If you haven't heard my classify myself as a lemon yet you can hear me say it now (well imagine I'm saying it) "I'm a lemon! There's a lemon law that allows for a trade-in in these situations. I demand a new body!" OK, now that I've said that and I've moved on to reality, I "broke down" this week and had another "episode."
I'm throwing all these quotes in because these are the various phrases used to describe my "syncopal episodes" which are really me passing out and smacking the heck out of my head. It typically happens at the most inopportune times (not that there really are opportune times to lose consciousness). It has happened during press conferences of a national news event, outside of a burning home, in front of a brick hearth and most recently after a mayor's press briefing onto a marble floor. Fun stuff huh!
Well, far removed from it there are a few funny moments from this most recent "medical mishap." My friend Rob, who has been around for this phenomenon before was on hand. Up until a few weeks ago Rob was also a co-worker. Now he's competition. Well, unconsciousness apparently overrides competition, even "minutes before the noon." Rob knows that the whole passing thing out happens, and I am NOT a fan of 911 getting called. This is what I've been told happened:
Rob took control of the scene assuring every one that every thing was OK. That lasted for only a few minutes when he started to crumble like a little girl concerned that I'd broken my neck. Apparently I wouldn't come to, was shaking funny and laying in an odd way. Well after several minutes a city clerk took my black high-heel off and stuck it in my face. My feet are apparently stinky enough to bring me out of unconsciousness. Awesome!
Well emergency medical folks came and went. I knew the firefighters, not at all embarrassing! I didn't go with them. Instead I called a frantic Michael to come and get me to take me to the emergency room because my head and neck hurt SOOO bad. He left in such a rush that the first time he walked out of the house he didn't have a shirt on. He eventually got one on but came to pick me up wearing swim trunks, flip flops and a T-shirt.
We went to Cabrini and started the waiting game. OK, so it was only like 30 minutes but I've never had to wait in an ER. Usually they rush me right back and I was hurting. And there were terribly loud and obnoxious children screaming all around.
We get back and the poking and prodding begins. SUCKS!
We got there around noon and didn't leave until around 8 p.m. Michael, who was exhausted, was a trooper. He didn't sign up for this. I'm apparently even giving him gray hairs! But Michael eventually had to go to work, and I really didn't want to be by myself. Well, this is where living 15 hours from family makes things tough. Michael goes to work, Rob has a brand new baby and wife at home and David is on vacation. So I was going to have to be by myself.
Michael's wonderful momma though came and hung out with me. What a blessing! Even though I don't have "my family" here, I feel like Michael's family has become mine. It meant so much to me to have her there and made that experience so much better.
I came home that night and slept until the next morning when the medical mishaps continued. I woke up and the subdued feelings of nausea were full-front. I spent the day throwing up and feeling miserable. I couldn't even keep an ice cube down.
That's where having to cry came in. As great as it is to have Michael here to take care of me and his loving family it's not the same as my own momma. She called and I cried and cried. A late afternoon prescription to control the nausea made all better. Around 8 p.m. I even got hungry. Michael made me a grilled cheese sandwich (with honey butter... interesting mistake.)
All of this gobbly gook means this -- I'm tired of this whole sick thing but am not giving up and will continue to fight, I have an awesome dude to take care of me, I am grateful for my new family but I still miss and need my momma!
Happy, healthy thoughts your way!