ER

Woke my Beloved at 1:30am last night with the words: I think I need to go to the hospital.

Food poisoning or some virus ran a length of barbed wire from my lungs through my stomach. It's the first time in 13.5 yrs of marriage that My Beloved has seen me puke. Good times, good times. EKG, ultrasound, x-rays, zofran (which didn't touch it), morphine, bentyl. All paid for by insurance.

And a husband who puts Florence Nightingale to shame.

I'm the luckiest woman in the world.