My first ER trip pre-dates my memory. Something about a very high fever and seizures. I made it to my mid 20s before I had another ER visit.

I encourage LAistas to try out the Santa Monica UCLA hospital. They were usually pretty okay with giving me heavy doses of narcotics, if it's painkillers you need.

There was a handy boutique ER nearer me that didn't give high doses, but had the shortest wait times. We stopped going there because there was one douche doctor, and they wouldn't tell me ahead of time if he was on duty. When I was admitted there, they didn't just have free internet (like UCLA), but a computer at every bed. Good times. Worst food, though.

But for me, it's now Westwood UCLA. It's just the simplest. I don't just know the doctors and nurses by name (and they me), I even know one of the other ER patients. Normally the schedules aren't on a 7 day loop, so I'd see someone different every week, but D's, like, stalking me. And they keep putting me in his section. Which is the suckiest section--it's the only shared adult room in the entire hospital. Which I know very intimately, since I helped launch it too.

I'm not really too familiar with our ER, but sadly Mom and I know which ward to request for lengthy stays in order to get the best nurses and technicians. And which room to request to have the most wheelchair-accessible bathroom.

I've only been to the ER twice myself, once for a broken arm and once when I was in a car accident. And we took Frances once when she drank a bunch of Tylenol. I think she was two or so. She has no memory of it. As parents, we've been lucky so far.

You never took me to the ER, Burrell! You're lucky!

Polgara sent me this revised pain chart. I don't have the ovaries to wear the shirt in.

Okay, that's a pain chart that actually makes sense.

I like how 1 a.m. and a documentary about Cleopatra where one of the experts is speaking maybe German makes me think I understand maybe German. I keep forgetting to read but I swears I am still following the narrative. Might be time to back away from the History International channel.

And, um, go to sleep. Need to find tired.

I crawled in bed at 10, took my night meds. At 11 I took some pain meds to counter a headache. At 12:30, when I still wasn't asleep I came out to the living room to watch a bit of tv. Ended up doing that, making one ornament and started another. It is almost 2:30 and I'm still wide awake.

Do. Not. Want.

I've only had the ER once for the kids, when Casper broke her thumb last year, but I was at work and didn't actually deal with any of it myself. I've been admitted through the ER to a hospital twice, but in both cases I was having a baby and the front door of the hospital was closed, it being before 8am; the ER was more of a transient location. I don't think I've ever been to the ER for an injury, but then growing up my father was a doctor and my mother a nurse so we took care of plenty of things at home.

Talking to other parents I realize how lucky I am in that my kids are rarely sick. We basically barely know their doctor, because we've never had to see him for anything other than routine vaccination appointments.

I went to the ER once, but only because I didn't realize the walk-in clinic was the next door over. I guess it was just as well, because I saw a good doctor fairly quickly (as opposed to later experiences in the clinic), but it was just for vertigo.