2 am this morning. I awake to nauseating pains in my belly. So sharp it felt like someone took a knife to it. I try to walk it off figuring it would just go away, load up on some Pepto, then laid back into bed.
It hurt to even lie down.
3 am. I sprang to the toilet and release all contents of my stomach. I text my friend, who served me fajitas that night, and asked if she was feeling ill. She texted me back saying she was fine so obviously it wasn't food poisoning.
4 am. My friend takes me to the hospital. Since no one else was there they immediately tend to me. My blood pressure was through the roof the pain was so bad. They quickly drug me up with morphine and give my body saline. Apparently I was so dehydrated the bag didn't last long.
5 am. The morphine had me in a deep slumber with some of the oddest dreams I ever had. I do recall driving in a big city with the skyscrapers swaying to the beat of Elton John, until I was awoke by a nurse who took more blood out of me.
6 am. The doctor comes back and says the blood work showed nothing serious and that he figured it was a one time thing possibly due to stress. He makes his recommendations for diet in the next month, which is easy considering I eat most of what he told me to anyways. After the nurse confuses my friend for my spouse she gives me the low down on prescriptions and they release me.
7 am. I'm home dreaming of being in a field with my old friend Shawn and we were talking about how the Raisin Bran sun should stop tossing midgets at cars. It took many hours for the drug to wear off.
That was my Tuesday morning. I hope everyone else had a better one.
"Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism." - Carl Jung