a dollar seventy-three

last week i anxietied (is this a word?) myself out of

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

while in the first tepid throes and throbs of anaphylaxis, a very funny phenomenon.

(did you know that the body just sends the flood and you shut down?)

last week i told myself i was being dramatic instead of

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

because i’ve found myself sick, wretching, clammy, and feverish over a sink, so many times before. (three times! the first month of freshman year).

last week i convinced myself

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

was a waste of time and money while calling an uber (economy, to save $1.73) to go home.

last week i gaslit myself out of

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

while i lost consciousness on the cold, cold bone-dry floor of a bathroom on harv ave.

last week i called my dad and told him i was feeling “kinda gross” instead of

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

while trying not to puke in said cedarwood-scented uber (economy, to save $1.73) on the way home.

last week i did not end up

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

and instead crouched over the toilet at home and stuck my fingers in my mouth until, stomach an iron vise, violently vomited. (three times! in ten minutes).

last week i thought about

GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM

as i lay in bed, mouth sour and dry, face on fire.

but i never stopped breathing, so