When I was in my mid-30s, had two young children, very little money, and a strong desire

to finally finish college, every minute of my day was filled.

Child care, class, writing papers, laundry, cooking, shopping, and trying to be a good enough

full-time college student to maybe make up for the fact that I was a full-time fuck-up in my 20s.

I knew I was exhausted and unwilling to just let myself rest a little when a couple nights

in the hospital started to sound really appealing.

Not that I wished for something to be horribly wrong with me, but like a simple epindectomy

sounded relaxing, because then someone would bring me food and percuss it and insist

I didn't leave the bed.

This is shameful, irrational, of course, since hospital stays are stressful and often traumatic,

so it has brought me comfort when other moms have confessed to me that they had the same

bizarre fantasy.

During that time, on a Friday in March, I was sitting in class when I noticed my stomach

hurt.

I put it out of my mind thinking it must just be stress and that I'd feel better as soon

as I handed in those last two papers.

As normal, I just told myself to push through and stop being pathetic, but my stomach was

killing me and my whole mind over matter thing wasn't working.

When I felt increasingly feverish on the drive home and had to roll the windows down to

let in the 26 degree Colorado air into my Honda, I told myself I just really like fresh air.

In friends, it almost worked, except as I turned the corner to my house, I passed out.

When I came to, I saw that I was parked not in our driveway, but in the neighbor's yard.

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