Too Many Ways to Die

I recently was admitted to the hospital after antibiotics failed to cure an infection I had. I then came down with a virus and on top of that had contracted some sort of weird inflammatory disorder. Oh, and my plumbing started giving me some problems. Needless to say I felt pretty bad, but that didn't stop my imagination from working over time. After one and a half hours, an IV was started and blood was drawn, this because of the high fever and the extent of my dehydration. Doctors promptly sent me for a cat scan and while I was entering the machine, countless scenes from the Final Destination movies played through my head. I was no longer worried about my various physical ailments, but of lasers burning out my eyes, or the machine imploding on me, or catching fire and being trapped in the room alone and burning alive. What a tiresome event.

Once I survived that, I thought I was out of the woods, but no. While I was being wheeled to my room, I asked how many patients were on the floor and was told that I was patient number six. Given, this isn't a big hospital, but now I had to worry about sociopaths who might kill nurses and doctors and creep to my room to put me out of my misery in a variety of violent ways. I imagined how I would hide, given that I was connected to bags of antibiotics and fluids and could barely stand on my own. I asked for sleeping pills two nights in a row because I had trouble sleeping. Is it any wonder? I kept the channels on hallmark movies in there. No more scary movies for me.

Well...until this weekend when I saw The Woman in Black. Slept with the light on again. Some lessons are never learned!