Five days in hell, that’s what a hospital stay is. And yet I cannot even imagine how terribly I would have done without the ability to just go.  I called a cab Sunday morning when the pain got close to unmanageable. I had been getting the waves of pain on and off since Friday and knew that it wasn’t going to diminish on its own.

So I got to the emergency entrance, the clerk took my name and the name of my doctor and that was it, I was whisked off to a room and many, many different helping hands. They made it so that I experienced the least amount of pain and nausea possible and gave me a favorable outcome — 2.5 days of agony, 3.5 days of retching followed by continued life as opposed to innumerable days of agony, retching and probably a heart attack followed by death.

I am so deeply glad I live where and when I do. You know when I checked out today, all the admissions clerk asked was “do you have extra insurance?” She recorded my answer, didn’t ask for proof, or money, and told me to get better – with a smile. And I won’t get a bill either. Oh the “horrors” of socialized medicine.