Considering that emergency rooms aren’t the happiest places, the dark haired girl seemed unexpectedly cheerful. Kinda’ like the hostess at an upscale restaurant. Only she wasn’t greeting celebrating couples or relaxing friends, she was admitting sick and injured people.
After getting my identifying information and the cause of my visit, she asked me to rate my pain from 1-10. While my right arm was red and swollen, and my elbow looked like Rudolph’s nose, I wasn’t in much pain. So I said, “Two.” If I had known then what I knew six hours later, I would have pressed hard on my elbow and said, “Eight.”
