Nineteen
I wake up in the ER.
Because I did actually pass out, and apparently someone driving out of the parking garage found me on the ground next to my barf and my trashed car, so here I am, alone on a gurney with people checking my heart and my head that I bashed against the concrete floor and they’re asking me questions about if I know who and where I am.
It only takes a few minutes for them to figure out that I’m not dying but basically in the grips of an impressive panic attack (and likely a mild concussion) but that I need to follow up with my family doctor to rule out possible epilepsy. When they learn my dad is upstairs in the CVICU, well, that seals the deal on the panic attack idea. So, they give me a gurney in a quiet corner with the lights low and blankets fresh from the wa
