Fun at the emergency room.

Well, rollerblading is all fun and games until you dodge a stroller and hit a brick and tear your chin open on the pavement and scratch up your elbows.

What adds to the fun is a bewildering 1.5 hour wait while bleeding through the lone bandaid given to you by the triage nurse.

And through all this, you have the stranger who kindly drove you and your friend to the ER, the doctor who calmly talked you through the suturing, the friend who patiently waited with you and took you back to your apartment.

But then you wake up the day after. And you hurt and you're still kind of bleeding and you can't bend your elbows, and everything, especially bathing, becomes a Herculean feat. And you've got cabin fever and you can't eat and you're celebrating womanhood and the whole cocktail of anxiety, adrenalin, estrogen, progesterone, and whatever else swirls you into a moody, emotional, depressed, desperate mess. And you make some calls and you send some texts and you write some emails, but everyone, including the guy with whom you recently became more-than-friends, is busy or has "other stuff to do." And then you start to cry, but you remember that the doctor told you not to get your stitches wet.

And that's when you realize that sometimes, it really fucking sucks to be alone.