I was not fine.

Once inside the house, lethargy overcame me. Turning toward my bedroom, I removed my mildly sweaty blazer before throwing it onto the chair in the corner. Then I stumbled down the hall, struggling to unzip my dress. With the failure of this evening there apparently came a failing of my body. Sluggishness made my head hazy. A small blessing, because it blanketed all thoughts of Kyle, and made it difficult to focus on the details of the awful date to analyze them.

I fumbled out of my dress and into the ratty old high school gym shirt that I slept in, before curling under my covers without so much as washing off my makeup or brushing my teeth. The welcoming oblivion of sleep embraced me.

No sooner had it felt like my eyes closed, than a sharp pang in my stomach woke me up. It was far more efficient than any alarm I'd ever used. I lunged from my bed, grabbing the wastebasket by my desk just in time to release the contents of my stomach.

I looked around trying to get my bearings. My cellphone was charging on the desk. The time told me that many hours had past since I'd fallen asleep, but my body felt like it hadn't gotten a wink. Another wave of crippling stomach pain washed over me. I doubled over the trash can again. Retching up little more than bile.

This wasn't good. I wanted to cry, but didn't think I had the strength, or fluids, to produce any tears. I needed to hydrate. With immense effort, I shuffled back towards my nightstand, thankful for once that my bedroom was the smallest in the house. Each step jostled some pissed off gremlin that had made its home inside my guts. Once there, I picked up my water thermos. Nothing sloshed inside.

Fuck me!

Getting to a sink felt impossible. I sat back down on my bed, trying to catch my breath, wincing at the effort.

This had to be a stomach virus. The kids at the community center were walking, talking petri dishes. I'd caught quite a few things from volunteering there over the years: colds, throat infections, pink eye, and even ringworm. Hopefully this one would pass quickly, and wouldn't require a visit to the doctor. Wasting money on a co-pay if it was just viral would add insult to injury.

I needed to rally, so I gave myself a pep talk. "You can do this! Just get to the bathroom. Fill up your thermos. Wash your face and brush your teeth. Take some ibuprofen."

Wrinkling my nose, I avoided looking down at the putrid can I was still gingerly hugging. "Clean out the trash." I shuddered. My pep talk had turned into a to-do list. This was hopeless.

The gremlin quieted down momentarily to a painful gnawing, instead of complete evisceration. It seemed like an opportunity to move. After easing up from my bed, I started towards the door with the garbage in one hand and my water bottle in the other. If I had a third hand I'd have grabbed my phone. But I barely had the capacity to hold onto the two items I already had. Hell, I didn't even have the ability to put on some pants. The idea of trying to maneuver myself into a pair did not appeal.

Leaning against the wall as I went, I got about halfway down the hallway to the bathroom, when some type of insanity overtook me. I made the mistake of chuckling at my miserable predicament, which made the demon inside of me very angry again. Suddenly my agony leapt from a nine to a nine billion on the pain scale. With the hot searing torment exploding in my abdomen, came strange twinkling lights and pinpricks behind my eyes. The already dim hallway shrunk and grew darker, while spinning on some off-kilter axis.

There was a scream, and then pitch black.

For a blessed moment I felt peaceful. Then the sound of hushed voices started to emerge from way off in the distance of time and space. They sounded like they were talking underwater. Someone was calling my name. Over and over. "Rosie! Rosie! Rosie!" Garbled. It sounded kind of like my Mom when she was loaded. The way I remember her voice the most.

"Mom?" I croaked out the question.

My lids flickered open. The bright ceiling light was on overhead. It stung my eyes. But it was nothing compared to the pain that wracked my stomach, and my head.

Did I crack my skull open on the floor?

My housemates' voices came to me more clearly now. Liz's blurry face was overtop of mine. Too close. Terrified wide eyes and rapidly moving mouth. Her hands probing my body. I jerked like a live wire when she brushed against my abdomen. Jamie paced the hallway down by my feet, on a cellphone. Jess darted in and out of my room. They spoke over top of each other.

"Rosie!"
"Oh my God!"
"We called the ambulance."
"Yes, I think she hit her head.
"Please hurry."
"I'll grab her phone and her wallet."
"What's wrong? I don't know!"
"Maybe her stomach?"
"That's why I'm calling you."
"Do you mean, like was she drugged, or does she take drugs?"
"What about her pants?"
"Someone call Barb."

The cacophony was too much. I turned my aching head to the side and dry-heaved again, before surrendering to the the black void once more.

After that, some things have become only snippets of memories. Being loaded onto a gurney and into an ambulance. Finally getting an IV and some medication to take the edge off the agony at the hospital. Painful sonograms and noisy scans. All culminating in a trip to the operating room for an appendectomy.

All far more expensive than an urgent care co-pay.

Later that day, once I was out of recovery but still slightly loopy, and finally settled into a room, my housemates and Mama B left. I was alone. Even the person in the bed beside me was wheeled out for tests.

I picked up my phone, dialing Felicity. She answered on the first ring.

"Rosie! I've been dying to hear all about your date. I'm hoping since it took you so long to call me that's a good sign." Her voice was cheerful, broadcasting her optimism.

I wanted to laugh, but knew it would be too painful, so I clutched a pillow against my stomach and groaned instead.

"It couldn't have been that bad," she said, her tone shifting to skeptical.

"You have no idea. And on top of having a terrible date on Friday, I finished off my week with appendicitis. I'm calling you from my hospital bed," I said while uncovering the food tray that was on top of my adjustable table. I sniffed at the contents.

Felicity gasped. "Please tell me you're joking."

"You can video call me if you don't believe me. Although I wouldn't advise it, since I look about as attractive as this slab of mystery meat they're serving me for dinner." I prodded it with the fork. "I think it's supposed to be Salisbury steak."

Felicity laughed. "I'll take your word for it. So how long do you have to be there?"

"Just long enough to bankrupt me I'm sure." I gave a grim snort.

"And how long will that take?" she asked with a tiny laugh.

Evidently she didn't understand just how little I was joking when I said that. Removing the apple juice from the tray, I covered the rest of it back up. "Oh... About one ambulance ride, and a day and a half here. I should get out tomorrow afternoon."

"Who's coming to get you?"

"Nobody. Mama B is welcoming a new foster placement tomorrow. Liz has a bridal shower for her cousin's wedding. Jamie has work. Jess has a date to an NFL football game. But no worries. The hospital said I don't need anyone to be here for discharge. So I'll just take a ride-share home."

I pulled the foil back on the little plastic cup, and took a sip of the cloyingly sweet contents. It had been a long time since I'd had apple juice. My mom used to buy it for me when I was very small, and she was actually attempting to parent me. The thought sent a different type of painful pang through my body. If ever there was a time when someone wanted their mom, being sick in the hospital was that time.

Felicity's voice rose an octave, distracting me from picking at that wound. "No way! I'll come and get you."

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not why I called you." I poured the juice over my melted ice chips, hoping to water it down enough to be refreshing. Then I continued, "I didn't want you to worry, thinking I was dead in a ditch on the side of the road, when I was merely collapsed in some puke in the hallway near my bedroom." I chuckle-groaned again.

She laughed more fully this time. "Let's make a deal. I'll give you a ride home, and you never talk to me about puke ever again."

"I think I make out like a bandit in that arrangement. But, what about your rehearsal?" Swallowing the cold juice felt wonderful. Apparently a scratchy throat, was common after being intubated.

"I'll just get there late. My lead actor is so good, he needs virtually no direction. Plus, he's intimidated everyone else in the show with his preparedness and intensity. Now they're all bringing their A-game. Seriously, this has been the easiest job I've ever had. They'll be fine running through their warm-ups and some lines without me."

"That's awesome. Your lead sounds like a dream. I guess since you put it that way..." I paused for an immense yawn, before continuing, "I accept your offer."

"That sounds like my cue to end this call. Get some rest, and give me a ring in the morning to let me know what time you want me there at."

I said, "Thanks Felicity. You're a great friend."

"And don't you forget it!" She gave me a final laugh before hanging up.