One day while at work(I remember those days), I got really sick. I mean really sick! I was literally lying on the cold, dirty, “I might catch an STD” tiled floor. I thought the pain would soon pass but it kept getting stronger and I thought my appendix would burst.

Anyway, two of my colleagues were getting worried and they called my boss so he could put in his two cents on the situation. Explain me to me how a high school principal with 30 years of experience in education will be able to determine what my prognosis would be. I don’t know, maybe catching all the episodes of General Hospital along with Dr. Oz on Oprah, he may have picked up a few things.

And correct I am! He picked up that when dealing with women and their shit, call an ambulance! I did not want that because it seemed embarrassing. Well, he insisted and nobody was going to tell Grand Poobah no. Plus at the same time I am thinking, “this is great. I get to leave work early.” I was also thinking if this would count as workman’s comp being that I got ill in your building full of horny teenagers that probably have spread more STDs than the Good Lord has spread His holy word (yes, spiritual Jennifer comes out of hiding every once in a while).

Back to the drama. Well, the ambulance was called and I was hauled away to one of Aisulov County’s finest hospitals. I was admitted and they started asking all these questions. Keep in mind that I swore I was dying and would really just have liked to get into the O.R. and have Geroge Clooney remove whatever is calling all this pain, but the first rule of hospital etiquette is “make money at all costs.” Oh, because you thought they were asking me medical questions? Oh no, it was more like “are you covered and how much is your deductible?”

The next thing I know my husband came in. He said that he got a call from my job that I was on my way to the hospital. He was worried and scared and I, even in my still as yet unmedicated state, found that endearing. I remembered our vows, in sickness and in health, and realized that they were true.

Weeks later, we get a bill from the hospital. $600 for the ambulance ride and a $6 charge for each mile to cover the cost of gas.

In sickness and health? Yeah, right! As long as it doesn’t cost dear hubby a deductible!

Dephicit responds:
Because gas costs $6 a gallon, right? Any chance to make a buck!

You forgot to mention that you lived and, I think came back to school the next day. Had to make up that $606 somehow, right? Not to mention the clock was ticking on your sick leave. Because that same administrator (Dr. Giggles) who called the ambulance on you, his next stop was at his secretary’s desk telling her to start her stopwatch. (You think you can lie around on the floor and writhe in pain on the school’s time? )