I missed Monday for a
completely legitimate reason. I spent the day in the emergency room.
Everything is okay, I’m fine now and will be back with my last two days of
taking a break on Wednesday and Friday. I hadn’t been to the hospital since I
was 15 and had an unfortunate incident with my pointer finger, a bread knife,
and a particularly round sesame seed bagel, but I will say it turns out
spending an entire day in the emergency room is the ultimate way to take a
break. If there wasn’t the small matter of having to wear a backless gown for
six hours, the various proddings, the plastic tube being inserted in my forearm
and you know, the searing pain, it was kind of like going on vacation: I laid
in a bed for seven hours while people waited on me hand and foot, Matt left
work early and we did crossword puzzles together, I got wheeled from room to
room in a gurney (I’m considering getting a gurney as a bed so I don’t have to
get up to make coffee), and I somehow earned 25 dollars by taking a survey.
I
was lucky that there was nothing majorly wrong with me. Going to the emergency
room is a reminder that not everyone who goes in those sliding doors gets out
seven hours later to watch Kitchen Nightmares and eat an entire loaf of French bread
with fancy brie and raspberries that they bought with their brand new 25
dollars. (Seven hours is like six hours longer than I normally go without
eating.) And I’m lucky that I have a boyfriend who ran two miles through the
streets of Ann Arbor in his work clothes (I like to imagine he was wearing a
labcoat, but I’m pretty sure it was just jeans and a polo) to drive me to the
hospital and a very concerned calico cat who refused to leave my side until he
got there. And of course for all the doctors, nurses, and paramedics who helped
me yesterday. See you guys tomorrow.
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