The sun is sending gold and silver beams through stubborn clouds, the windows are fogged up from the cold of morning and the warmth of my room, of me, of everyone else in this house... It's still morning here, painfully early, with the crisp of winter still clinging desperately to a few half-chilled flowers while spring attempts to fight it off. In short, it's a beautiful day, apparently.

So why the bloody hell am I awake at this hour? Why am I not following my usual patterns? Part of it is that this IS my usual pattern of late, I've been keeping earlier hours and trying to get up in the morning. Part of it...

...Friday night Ryan and I were headed... I can't for the life of me remember where, it might have involved Tyson but I'm not sure. All I DO know is that he barely managed to catch me when I started going spastic. He got me laid down and pried my mouth open and my tongue out, I'd already bitten it in two places (which hurt like bastards today and yesterday), and made sure I could keep breathing while someone called 911 (Rachel, I think).

The ambulance arrived - now, keep in mind that I have no actual memory of most of this - and I was bundled in. I remember being in the ambulance briefly, remember trying with no success to fight off an oxygen mask, no idea where I was or what was going on. For a few minutes I would have sworn I was being kidnapped... then I woke up in the E.R.

At some point they put in a needle, gave me a bag of fluid so I wouldn't get dehydrated, and got a urine sample. If the sample was queered in any way I was supposed to get a callback (and if they don't, then on Monday I'm calling them to find out what the results were). Ryan came along with me, riding in the front of the ambulance... which meant that when I started to climb my way back to consciousness, there was someone I KNEW there. I can't possibly express how very much I HATE being alone in a hospital.

Now? Now I've got big chunks of my memories of the last few days missing, my hands and feet keep twitching and my hands have started to actually vibrate to the point where I look like a caffeine addict or something. My mouth hurts, the various pokes and IV drip and stick-on patches have left me feeling a lot more pain than I wanted, coupled with blurry vision and moments of dizziness so intense that I have to sit down or I'll FALL down. The bed here is MAYBE a foot from the computer chair, and it took me two f'ing tries to manage to sit on it.

Caleb is home, now. He's at the Dixon House, most likely still asleep, and I want him over here. Why over here? Because with the way the last 48 hours have gone, I'm not going out to Gresham to see him there. The hospital I need to go to is out here. The mother of a friend works there, plus that's where my records are now, plus that's where I came Friday night, plus if I DO need to go, it'll likely be sudden, and I have a house full of friends here to the point where there is someone here who can drive 99% of the time.

...or in other words, because I'm about as happy as I'm gonna be, right now.

See, here's the kicker - those wonderful anti-depressants that help with pain and help me sleep? According to at least one of the ambulance people and I think one of the nurses, those same little useful pills have seizures as a KNOWN SIDE EFFECT. Guess what I'm going to be spending my morning researching?