I got up a paced around my room frantically. I tried stretching and doing crunches; anything to relieve the pain. Unfortunately, nothing worked. It was clear that this wasn't something that was going to simply go away. It wasn't your typical morning Charlie horse or leg cramp. This was going to require medical attention.
I called my mother and tried to explain that I was in excruciating pain, but I could barely speak. My father raced to the hospital at about 80mph. Notoriously a slow driver, I wish I could have better enjoyed seeing him race through red lights and take turns on only two wheels. Sadly though, I was fully reclined in the passenger seat, clutching my stomach. I'm pretty sure it was the first time I had cried since seeing The Lion King in the theater.
My father pulled up to the emergency room entrance, blatantly disregarding the "Ambulance Only" sign. He dropped me off and then sped off to find a parking spot. I hobbled into the ER, bent over like a figure 7. Barely able to speak, I told the guy at the desk that I needed help. He simply handed me a clipboard and told me to have a seat and fill out the paperwork. I looked at him dumbfounded and then reluctantly sat down in the waiting area. There were maybe three other people in the entire room. No one appeared to be in any immediate need for assistance. I did my best to fill out the four pages of questions and then returned it to the guy at the front desk. Again, I told him that I was in a lot of pain, but he simply told me that they would get to me momentarily and I'd have to wait my turn.
My dad frantically entered the room and tried to explain that I needed help, but the helpful male nurse told him that there were a lot of people ahead of me. Again, I counted three, and two of them were most likely family members of the one person who was there for assistance.
Finally they called me over the desk, where another nurse, this one female, took my temperature and blood pressure. She then began to read from the paperwork I filled out and ask me every question I had just answered. I asked why they had me fill out the paperwork if they were just going to re-ask me every question: name, age, current prescriptions, insurance provider, etc. "Your handwriting is very sloppy", was her response. It was the first time I ever wanted to punch a woman. Through the entire exchange I was bent over in agony. I couldn't even tell you what she looked like because I'd been staring at the floor the entire time.
My dad almost lost it and told her that he could answer every question for me. She ignored him and continued to ask me to translate my answers. I screamed something in agony and they called security.
The dofe of a security guard came wobbling over and tried to look intimidating. "It's a kidney stone", was his diagnosis. "Great", I thought to myself, "Now we can finally go home. The security guard just diagnosed the problem!" He went on to say that he had a kidney stone a few years back and was in the waiting room for three hours before he was treated. How comforting. What excellent bedside manners. I couldn't believe the pain didn't just miraculously disappear right then and there.
I waited about another ten minutes before a nurse finally came out and brought me into the ER. It was another hour before I was finally hooked up to an IV and given pain medication. The security guard was right. It was a kidney stone. I spent the entire day at the hospital and was finally released around 8pm. I wanted to tell the security guard that he was in the wrong profession but unfortunately there was a new shift on duty. Maybe next time.
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