A demonic intrusion of biblical proportions

Dude. No Comic-Con. I know, let's all take a moment, 60 seconds of silence to mourn the golden opportunity passed. Thank you.

My game plan was intercepted by a demonic intrusion of biblical proportions. Saturday morning was a typical morning of a Supreme Croissant, coffee and a very lame day at work in which I was fully caffeinated. The cars, the trucks, the e-mails, the constant phone ringing, and the constant, mundane, insincere question hour after hour, "When is my rent due?"

+ "Like you don't know!"

+ "Uh, same day it was due last month, and the month before, and the year before, in fact, same day it was due the day you signed up 5 years ago."

+ "NOW."

Everything was in place for another fantastic Saturday until 12 noon, when I decided I was not hungry, but should take a lunch anyway due to the time constraints of the day. At 12 noon I went home to watch Muchachitas (my Spanish learning novela of choice) on my DVR. I sat down and had what could only be compared to a visit with Satan. He said he was going to take up residence in my stomach for the next few days and that I would not be going to Comic Con. Tears and heart ache ensued as well as a couple of frantic phone calls to close family members and friends who might be near-by and down for an all day visit to the E.R.

It was first come first serve, and Dad arrived on the scene fastest. Surprise! Dad, by law cannot and has not ever arrived anywhere late, for any reason, at any time, any place, for fear of impending doom or elusive repurcussion. But thank God and his son, Dad was there and we were off on Mr. Toad's wild ride only to find that several places magically did not have ER services anymore. When did certain places decide not to have Emergency Services? I'd heard of this many years ago that due to lack of finances, many hospitals and clinics could no longer support an E.R. This makes it difficult and inconvenient in emergency situations.

The first place we came to was admitting people via computer. Basically it was a room full of dying, coughing, choking, chest pained people waiting around, who had checked in with the computer. It was like the self checkout at the grocery store. How could I get in quickly if they didn't see me dying first? This was not a smart concept that would work in my favor so I decided to ditch it. I did not want to be a part of this crowd.

The 2nd place we came to took me in right away as I made a scene from the very start as a tearful, hot mess. They had compassion but not too much compassion as they whacked off 100 dollars from my saved home fund. The doctor pushed around on my stomach and I kicked him in the head with my elbow. He did not want to give me anything for pain because he thought it could be my appendix and told me to go straight to the ER.

So off we went to a real ER where they immediately hooked me up to the IV, a machine, and some designer drugs. It sucked pretty bad. They did all kinds of tests not worth mentioning including an ultra sound and cat scan. During the ultra sound the young lady who did not have enough experience with those gadgets, took said gadget and decided it would be smart to dig it into my stomach. She dug so damn hard I think she was engraving her initials on my pancreas. I think she was trying to pull Lucifer from the pit, straight through my navel. I screamed and kicked and spanked her in the face with my fist. She was brutal, and not kind.

I was in the ER for 12 hours. I knew, that being in this much pain on an empty stomach and no sleep, doped up on designer drugs intravenously was the quickest way to ensure I was not going to Comic-Con. Let's take another 60 seconds. Thank you.