Just fear. No loathing. Only fear.

Sleep sweetly.

If I ever have to go to the ER again, I want to be in the waiting room for four, no, five hours. I want to sit in those horribly upholstered, terribly uncomfortable chairs until I can no longer feel my ass or my feet. I want my stomach to scream with hunger because a vending machine has been my only sustenance for breakfast and lunch. I want even my favorite cellular telephone games to become tedious.

When you go to the ER and they take you immediately without even registering you, your body is doing things you have not authorized and never wanted to experience. I pray (lol) that the next time I have to visit the ER is due to a UTI that feels like fire in my urethra. That won't get me seen ASAP, but that won't kill me. A demon in my bladder is preferable to an incubus in my lungs.

If you have to sit in the ER waiting room with chubby women who are vomiting into bags or middle-aged men who have weeping, open sores on their legs, consider yourself lucky. Rest assured that you probably aren't dying.