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Thursday, 20 October 2011


You know what I find funny? The irony behind "Emergency Room". Unless you have a bone sticking out of you, or you're holding on for dear life, or you know, have come in an ambulance, you aren't really in any real emergency. I went to the Civic yesterday because I felt like knives were stabbing me and things were trying to escape my stomach. I then waited seven hours for test results and to be poked and prodded and looked at... only to find out that nothing was actually wrong with me and I should just sleep it off. NOW, usually, I wouldn't mind. Usually, I would just sleep it off. But this has been going on since before the summer, and I don't usually complain. I hate doctors, and I especially hate hospitals, so for me to be begging to be taken to one, just to have them say "You're fine." is kind of like a slap in the face.
And I get it, I do, they can only do so much at 6am, and I was getting ridiculously tired of waiting around and just, in general, but my point is, it shouldn't have taken them seven hours to figure it out. And again, I get it, short staffed, mid-night shifts, some girl was fucked on coke and another came in an ambulance - so obviously their priorities are there... but they could have at least mentioned, "Hey, something came up, you MIGHT be here for a little while longer then expected."
Anyway, I got home around seven this morning, made my mom stop off at Mcdonalds because giving blood makes me hungry and dizzy and then came home and crashed.
I still feel like total shit, and I still want to rip my stomach open so whatever's inside doesn't do it for me, but I guess the good news is, nothing's infected, and my liver and all that jazz are still in good condition.
That's my rant for now, I'll probably write later when I don't feel like death, but we shall see.

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