exhaustion.

Today I was practicing my sign language presentation that I had this afternoon, when Erica told me she thought she had some gas. She took some Gas-X and I kept practicing. Like thirty minutes later, she is moaning. Loudly. She starts screaming like a dying mountain lion. I'm freaking out. She continues screaming for another thirty or so minutes. I call an ambulance. We're both freaking out. Apparently the pain was so intense like she had never felt before.

These supercool paramedics come. They're like, "Guys it reeks of weed in here." And I'm like, "I have no idea why." And the dude, who later told us that he was roommates with Dennis Leary -- hah -- says, "Look, we don't care at all, but sometimes police follow us on our calls, so hide your stuff." And Fuld was like, "Oh, she did." And then this guy, the ACDE of our building, who at the beginning of the year I totally wanted to have sex with, no lie, shows up at our door, and is like, "What's going on?" And I'm talking to him, and the cool paramedic guy comes over and is like, "Who are you?" He takes him outside and (we learn later) tells the guy that he can tell he's high on something more than pot and to take my cell number and get the hell away from us. Such a BAMF!

So they take us to Bellevue in the ambulance and we're in the waiting room for like 2 hours. Then they take her back and I'm not allowed to go with her... and I sit in the waiting room for another 5 and a half hours.

I missed work, which my boss was very understanding of because she is a sweetheart, and sign language again because I took someone to the hospital again. I think my teacher thinks I am full of shit. Who has to take two different friends to the hospital in the course of ONE week?! 

I have two exams tomorrow. I'm exhausted. I have to try to study for a few hours.

And I'm worried about my Derek, who had a really really rough night. I want him to tell someone else about it instead of just me, who can't really do anything to help him the way he deserves.