xproma

An evil infection has cocooned itself in my tooth. My lower jaw on the right side has become monstrously swollen so as my face is unrecognizable as human. On top of that I have a sweet cold. My nasal passages are running, and my ears keep popping like I have a paper bag wrapped tightly around my head. I need a root canal, and I'm not too excited about it.

Anna Nicole Smith is dead and I'm sick of hearing about it.

Saturday night, for me, was spent in the foul smelling clutches of the emergency room at Scripps Mercy Hospital on 5th Ave. in Hillcrest. The very same hospital Aaron Carter was admitted to after he nailed his liver with a surfboard. I've only watched House Of Carters once by the way. I then decided that hospital emergency rooms are quite possibly the most wretched places on Earth. It all unfolded at 3 AM when, after suffering from tooth pain all day, I decided I couldn't go on and I needed some medication for infection and pain. My girlfriend drove us from our apartment to the hospital. Upon entering the automatic 'Wal-Mart' style doors I proceeded to check in with a certainly miserable looking blond girl wearing one of those hospital nurse rainbow colored smocks over her dark green scrubs. In the waiting room, my girlfriend and I sat awkwardly (with as little ass or other body parts touching) in the disease infested, lime-snot colored vinyl chairs with wood trim and backing that was slightly similar to the rainbow colored snot rocket on the blond girls smock. The zombies that surrounded us varied by age and ugliness, but all shared the depressing look of being ill. One particular ghoul looked to be about mid-30's with darkish hair. He was wearing pajama flannel pants, and some over sized black t-shirt. He moaned like a spectre as he clutched his side and stumbled about the room. After an hour of waiting impatiently in this dank chamber of horrors, my name was finally called by a mustache sporting man in the same drab as the beloved blond nurse. This man, too, was a nurse. He didn't bring me to the doctor, but just behind the glass where the other nurse was sitting doing a crossword puzzle. After taking my weight and height, he sat me down across from him and placed the thermometer in my mouth. He sat with his legs wide open and his balls flopped to one side of his thin nurses scrubs and made their presence known. This upset me quite a bit, but I was in no position to refuse service. After he was done fiddling with my patients and asking stupid questions, I returned once again to the waiting room for another grueling 45 minutes. I applauded and thanked my girlfriend deeply for her patients seeing as she was waiting with me this whole time, in this same hell, and she wasn't even ill! Finally, some marvelous amount of time after we had first arrived at Scripps Mercy, I was summoned to the back to meet the doctor, the man who would cure my pain.

The entire emergency room was a riot of people running to and fro, a bee hive of activity. I somehow landed in the space next to the guy from the waiting room who was howling like a goddamn banshee at this point. I think he might have been passing a stone, something about the way he was clutching his side just leads me to think that.

I spent five minutes with the doctor. He opened my mouth, stuck his fingers in and played around for a bit, and presently wrote me a prescription for 500MG Penicillin and 500MG Vicodin.

By this time, the sun was just about rising in downtown San Diego and the sky lit up a brilliant purple-blue. Birds were chirping and the morning fog was dissipating.

After another hour at the CVS pharmacy, my girlfriend and I drove home and went to sleep.