"You have nice veins"

I don't know what it is about teachers, but we seem to get sick more than the average person. Now, you might think that it's because we're around kids all the time, kids that don't wash their hands, cover their mouths when they sneeze, or bother to bathe... and this is all true. I however, manage to contract deathly, exotic stomach bugs when I haven't seen a child in months.
I can't predict these things, and until two o'clock in the morning, I had no idea that I was sick. (Of course it happens at 2 a.m., because for it to happen when you can actually scream for help and someone would care is just too much to ask.) My stomach felt much like the man in Alien right before the alien comes through... I wasn't ruling it out at this point. By three o'clock, I was begging for the alien to, "Please for the love of God, come out already so I can go back to sleep", but it was not that kind. Oh no, I spent the remainder of the waking hours wrapped in a sarong and a bath mat (it was all that was handy and I was not about to crawl 15 ft. to find a blanket). With all this free time on my hands... and knees, I decided to ponder my life. "So this is what it's come to," I thought. "Someone is going to find me dead in my bathroom wearing layers of beachwear and Bed, Bath, and Beyond and I didn't even bother to brush my teeth or comb my hair." Vanity left me around 4 a.m. because the alien, who I named ALF, was consuming most of my attention and because my teeth and hair actually hurt at this point.
For the record, I might have considered calling a friend for help... but then I remembered that all of my friends that I would trust to answer the phone and take me to the emergency room are all our of town. Every. last. one. Around 5 am I decide to call my parents, because if I have to suffer, then so do they. My dad instructs me to call the national guard, or at least an ambulance, but I have my pride so I resisted. I didn't even want to go to the emergency room, but I was feeling extra pathetic and I was determined to die a more glamorous death, so I brushed my teeth and grabbed my keys. This is where it gets ridiculous.
In my almost-four years of teaching, I have gotten sick EVERY YEAR. I have been to this emergency room many times, so I should be able to find it. I found myself screaming in pain and frustration at the people of Aransas Pass because they could not make the hospital in a central location, like next door to me. I start to realize (halfway to the next town) that I am going to wrong way. But it's too late. I'm going to be sick. I've never been sick in a car. I just kept thinking, "God, please no. I will listen only to Christian Rock in my car if You just let me pull over to somewhere where I can get sick and not get run over." The Lord works in mysterious ways, indeed.
There before my very eyes is the only place to pull over on this dirt road: a pasture. With horses. I don't even care at this point. I pull over, but I am quickly reminded that my car door handle broke a week ago, and I have to roll the window down to let myself out from the outside. I'm squealing, pursing my lips together, and can feel the anticipation of what is about to go down... or up, in this case. I get out of the car and I run to barely make it over a fence. When I finally look up, not really sure if I'm still alive or if ALF has taken over my body completely, I see a horse. Staring at me. I've lost all self respect at this point. I'm a woman on the edge about to ask a horse what the hell he's looking at, but then I remember that I wandered into his pasture. I technically broke into his home. I offer my apologies and decide to try and find the hospital... again. Keep in mind that the sun hasn't even come up yet.
I finally find the hospital, and then eventually the emergency room, and to my surprise, I am the only one there. Like at all. Finally, the insurance lady (that's what I call her because that's the only thing she really asks me about) shows up and takes basic information. It still takes almost an hour for them to call me back, but I am just hoping to deliver the alien and be done with it. Then it wouldn't matter if I had health insurance. I'm cold, I'm shaky, and I hate everyone. Including the horse.
The doctor sees me and says, "So, you're not feeling well?" No, you're wrong. I feel great. I just wanted to see if it goes down just like House and I can't think of a better time than 6am to surprise you. "No, sir. I don't feel well." He asks me what my pain feels like, so I tell him about ALF, as vividly as possible. He is pretty sure it's food poisoning. Clearly, we are going to have to agree to disagree. So he orders lots of clear fluids in a variety of bags and bottles to be administered. When my nurse comes in to fill the orders, he says things like, "Ah, mija! You poor thing!" I like him already.
As the nurse (my main man, Ray) starts an IV, he tells me, "You have beautiful veins." I don't really feel right taking credit for this... I mean, it's not like I work them out, so "thank you" seems a little much. I figure that a smile will do, since we're getting along so well. Hours later, the doctor comes back. At this point, I have hit my limit. My stomach hurts, I am wearing a hideous gown with bears on it, and Ray left me. When the doctor comes back, he asks me the only question that you should never ask a single person when they come into the ER. "Don't you have a husband that can take care of you?"
No, no I don't. You know what I do have? A third grade reading level (for prescription bottles) and a great right hook. Now kindly take your Don Juan mustache out of my... cubby with a drape... and I'll give you back your dancing bears robe. "No, sir I don't. I'm sure it will be fine." I get dressed and slink out of the emergency room.
It wasn't all bad. I do feel a little better. But it seems as though everyone wants to show me food. True Life: I'm Addicted to Food, Eat Pray Love, and Cupcake Wars. So I have decided to stick with a flick that won't hurt my stomach at all: The Departed.