A Night in the ER

While sitting watching TV last night, Ann stated to feel a little weird.

She had recently been prescribed Zoloft for occasional panic attacks. She said that after her first dose on Wednesday she was feeling fine, but Thursday was another story.

Her condition worsened so I called her doctor. He said the best bet was to go to the ER. By now it was 10:30pm.

We had to wake The Kid from his good sleep and drove him over to the grandparents’ house while we went to the ER. He began to cry as we left.

Sitting and waiting in the waiting room kind of makes you wish you would die from your ailment. It was packed with people snotting around, carrying barf buckets, bleeding from the ear. There was also a girl who was on her cell phone the entire time we were there who, after a long cell phone conversation in English, told her mom in Spanish that she “wasn’t ready and I don’t want it if I’m not ready.” She couldn’t have been 16, and what they could do for her in the ER is beyond me. No wonder our system is so farked up.

Then there was a guy we tagged Barfy, who was carrying around and occasionally emptying a barf bucket. He continually pestered the receptionist about when he was going to be seen; he was the only one who did.

It was determined that Ann’s illness was a possible reaction to the Zoloft, so she’s stopped taking it and is fast asleep as I type. It’s a far cry from 24 hours ago, when she was freaking out over what was going on.

By the time we were done, it was 1:00am–today. I had to make a quick stop at Del Taco for a “breakfast” of two cheeseburgers and by the time we got to bed, it was 2am. I called work to inform them I would be out today after our little escapade.

We didn’t wake up until 11am, then fell asleep again at 12pm, and then woke up again at 3pm. And I’m still tired. It was a long night/day.