Thursday, November 14, 2013

This afternoon at work, I had a very sudden and very sharp pain on the left side (my left side... stage left) of my chest. I couldn't breathe for what was probably only a second, but it happened in slow motion for me and once it was over my adrenaline kicked in and I started sweating. "What the hell was that?" I wondered. I began listing off possible ailments caused by my birth control and deduced thusly I had a heart attack and/or blood clot near my heart. I'm mostly joking but I'm also like, that would totally figure.

Immediately, my thoughts jumped to that time my friend had an emergency appendectomy that in all seriousness saved his life, until the $128,000 bill came in the mail because he doesn't have insurance and that's how much 30 minutes of a very common surgery costs without insurance. His life is ruined, his parents' lives are ruined, and my life is ruined because it makes me so sad for them. It's a debt that will quite literally never be paid off, on top of his/his parents' regular costs of living (they had to dip into their retirement, big time, and he had to move back in with them, big time.)

This is why I will never step foot into a hospital. Forget it. I can be diagnosed in the morgue.

I’ll be fine. Just let me take a lap around the neighborhood and lie down on the couch and if I fall asleep for too long poke me a little. But not too hard or quick so that I wake up afraid. That will just upset me and I won’t be able to tell exactly how I’m feeling.

I had the flu that one time when swine flu was going around maybe almost for sure and I lived. I ate a ham sandwich on this Wednesday and then we started hearing radio PSAs for swine flu and then I started to feel crazy sick and then some flu really did like, invade my bod that night. Maybe it was swine, I don’t know. I’m just saying, I had ham on a Wednesday and woke up Thursday looking like, crazy hellish.

Never take me to a hospital. If I am at your house and I start to die, throw me in a cab back home to my dog and text Brad about it, or just let me die in your backyard and I’ll write a note saying that it wasn’t your fault when we realize that I’m internally bleeding to death or heart attacking. Or I’ll just print this out and keep it in my wallet.

I’m dead serious, guys. If you’re my friend, you’ll never let me get a bill like that. Living isn't worth it.

I have a savings account that will cover my funeral.


I’m ready to go. Anytime. I’m confident. I couldn’t afford to fight with Mother Nature if I wanted to.