Patient Perpetrator
9
Katie Regittko The last time I rode in an ambulance rushing to the hospital, a part of me jumped for joy. This time it wasn’t my fault, I thought. People will show their care before judgement for once. There’s an EKG in front of my television set; my dog was back with my roommate. Once again, I didn’t know if that gentle goodbye would be my last to her. But if I died, I remembered in the back of my mind, at least it wasn’t my fault this time. Tiny metal box rushing down the road to the hospital. Texts flooding my inbox. Spray the nitro under the tongue, chew this aspirin. “You’re kind of young for this.” The physical symptoms were almost identical to the times before, but this time without a paired electrolyte imbalance or laxative overdose or extended stretch without intake. Heart racing, chest tightening, pain, and everything else blurred out. I couldn’t see or breathe, but a part of my dying heart swelled as I thought again, this wasn’t my fault. For once. When you present to a hospital after taking boxes of laxatives, you’re
