Valentines Day is now trying to kill me.
So after deep breathing for an hour, nothing changed and I was scared so I called public safety and the nicest officer came and asked me questions.  Then four more officers came.  Then a fire fighter.  Then three more firefighters.  Then four paramedics with a stretcher came in.  And then I fought with the paramedic for like ten minutes about not wanting to take an ambulance.  And they told me I needed to go to the hospital asap (but I think they have to say that).  Then my RD came up and the paramedics told him to make sure I go to the hospital.
So then I start crying.  Because it's two thirty am and I'm scared and I don't want to go to the hospital and I don't want to wake up my apartment-mate to take me at two thirty am.  I was nervous.
So I wake Liz up and she drops me off at the hospital.  I get my own room where I'm given a hospital gown and then hooked up to two machines with wires all over me.  I got an IV, a chest x ray, a nasty numbing drink, and watched a lot of news.  Not much else is on at three, four, five, six am.  They thought that I had a clot in my lung for about an hour which was really scary.  Then they injected me with something and took some blood and found out that my lungs are fine.  Then they concluded that I have esophagitis and they prescribed me stuff and told me to sleep.
So here I am.
Happy Valentines Day.
I'm actually feeling really good.  Like physically I'm groggy and achy and blahhh but otherwise I'm feeling good.  Like I'm not dying.
I really thought I was dying.
I've never had symptoms like this and everyone was acting so urgently...I didn't know what was gonna happen.
But I'm okay.
And for this I am glad.
Happy Valentines Day, friends.