I think we may have different definitions of ‘fun’.

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So, I left the house yesterday.

I almost didn’t. I actually wanted to back out right after I’d put my coat on, because I was feeling horribly dizzy. But I didn’t. Even though I’d just been woken up, thrown into the bath, and had only had, like, two sips of Coke.

We ended up at this restaurant somewhere in the 16th Street Mall. That’s…well, I don’t think most of my five readers know much about Denver, so it’s…I dunno. Not really a mall so much as this really weird place with ‘streets’ that only these magical [and free] hybrid bus things, rickshaw-things, and horse-drawn things [sub-tangent: some day, I’m totally going to ask one of those dudes if I can pet the horse, because some of them are, like, smallish Clydesdales or something, and I have this weird compulsion to pet identifiable breeds of things] are allowed. Also, there are buskers everywhere, and I, personally, find it hard to tell if some of them are just busking, or are legit crazy homeless people.
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I wasted a few people’s time last night.

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I was sitting down, watching another Arthur C. Clarke’s Mysterious World episode when, suddenly, pain.

And not normal pain. Not head pain, or ankle pain, or a sort of intestinal cramp thing that happens a little too often. This was new, and kinda scary. It was like something with claws had reached in and grabbed my right lung and started pulling and squeezing at the same time, and occasionally pausing to claw up the insides of my pleural cavity.

After a call to the nurse line resulted in ‘needs to be seen in one or two hours’, we inconvenienced the roommate with a request for a ride to the ER. Because an ambulance isn’t a reliable way to get to my hospital.

I did try to stop all that from happening, saying that it might be nothing, and maybe I could just go to sleep and it’d all be better when I wake up — I was suddenly really tired, and I didn’t want to bother anyone about it.
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