So here I am, sitting in the emergency room. It is 10:41 AM, and I have been here since 9. I was lucky, my wait to see the doctor was wonderfully short today. Less than half an hour. But now I’m stuck in this tiny, stuffy, increasingly hotter by the minute room, with my dad, who after seeing a drawer labeled, “Chlamydia Swabs”, broke into a rousing chorus of Boy George’s “Chlama, chlama, chlama, chlama, chlama, chlamydia. It comes and goes, it comes and go-o-o-oes.” *sigh*

So what am I doing here, you ask? Trying to find out what the hell is wrong! What do I get? More tests. Ooo, I got to pee in a tiny cup. A girl drained my blood, and damn, did it ever hurt! Needle must have been horse-guage. I can’t believe how hard she stuck me!

“Chlama, chlama, chlama, chlama, chlama, chlamydia. It comes and goes, it comes and go-o-o-oes.” It just won’t stop! Thanks a heap, dad. Now of course, the hospital’s wi-fi is password protected, and there is no reception whatsoever in this room anyway, so by the time I post this, I will back home, likely comfortable in my studio, or better yet, in bed. Whatever. Being sick sucks. Every day you don’t have to spend in the hospital, or with a doctor (unless of course you are lucky enough to marry a rich, handsome one), you should say, “Thank you, Jesus.” See Paul, I remembered the comma after *you*. Wait a minute, maybe it doesn’t need one there…??? Sorry, blonde moment. At least it doesn’t look like I’ll have to be admitted. Although the “refer you to a surgeon, just to be sure” left me feeling a bit uneasy…

“Red, gold and green, flows like a stream. God these yeast infections are mean.” Oh, a new chorus to the song! Awesome, dad. God help me. Nurse! Where the hell are those results???

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3:00 PM – At home. Am I seriously going to post this drivel, you ask? Well, certainly! The way I see it, better to be able to laugh at your own misfortune, than dwell on how much it blows.

I hope I never hear Karma Chameleon again.

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