The Last Time I Went to the ER Was on a Tuesday, Too

Tuesday, June 5 was going to be my day. I was going to dedicate the majority of my time working on my freelance writing business: drafting cold emails, working on some pitches, and posting on my blog. I felt energized when I went to bed Monday night.

Instead, I spent Tuesday in the ER.

Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash

I won’t go into much detail, but I will say that I couldn’t keep any food or water down. Being terrified to drink liquids for fear of throwing it back up was my main reason for going to the ER. Fortunately, the ER was only a 4-minute drive away, but it took me 12 hours to make up my mind and go. (That’s anxiety for you.)

The writer in me is always taking notes, and she didn’t let me down yesterday.

  • The needles they stick in you are never the same length. Don’t look too closely.
  • I wonder what ER waiting rooms are like in Japan? I hope I never find out.
  • “On a scale of 1 to 10, what’s your pain level?” After being asked this 5 times, I start to forget what the numbers mean.
  • The last time I went to the ER was on a Tuesday, too. Go figure. I was also wearing pajamas, too. At least I’m dressed better this time.
  • It gets really tiring explaining the reason for your visit to 5 or more different people. After a while I forget why I’m there, only knowing what I need: an IV.
  • I get an IV in my right arm and it goes cold. Common, apparently. 
  • I have to wear a gown. Now that’s a first. Flimsy material.
  • Someone’s crying next door. Or is she humming to herself?
  • The doctor never closes the door all the way. It swings back open just before it latches. Does he really think his power is enough to close it? Is that an indication of his confidence? Ego?
  • The nurse always closes the door. She’s nice and efficient. Our names rhyme.
  • It’s 7:05 when we finally leave. I feel no anxiety. It feels nice not to care about time.

I like to try and remember my impressions and experiences wherever I am, even when sick and doped up on drugs. One small detail can add color to a future story or poem. It’s a habit I take comfort in, and one I think all writers should develop. I hope, however, that none of you end up in the ER anytime soon. Even for a writer, it’s not a fun place to flex one’s creative muscles in.

Until next time!


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