i went to the hospital a couple of nights ago, complaining of a headache that i'd had for about four days. to be entirely clear, this wasn't a bunch of headaches for four days, this was the same headache. it just didn't stop.

so i go to the emergency room because i don't actually have a doctor, and he does all these drunk tests on me, i guess to gague my neurological acuity.

somehow, because i was able to stand with my feet together and my eyes closed without falling down, this guy ruled out brain tumors, aneurisms, parasites--anything like that.

meanwhile, i'm standing there like, "what, no head CT?" dr. carter orders them all the time!

what i did get was a shot in my ass of SOMETHING that really killed the pain toot sweet, and a scrip for hydrocodone, which i am presently enjoying to the utmost.

if i wasn't on heavy painkillers, i'd probably still be nervous. i am, of course, a raging hypochondriac, and i'm still not entirely convinced that i don't have a brain tumor, and in a morbid kind of a way, i'm almost disappointed. strange, how we sometimes seek the most complicated and tragic answers in order to explain our most simple and mundane problems.

strange.