“I held out my wrists for the cheaper option.
As they were cuffing me, I asked if I could bring a jacket and my phone. One of the cops went back in. Wrong jacket, and my phone was about to die.
The ER staff encouraged me to just lie down and sleep. I was like, ‘And get billed for an overnight stay? NO.’ So I sat cross-legged on the ER bed, elbows on knees, chin on fists, and watched through the open curtain as they went about their business.
This made them uncomfortable.
The ER released me an hour later. The assessment team agreed that I was medically and mentally functional on my own.
This was in a sketchy bit of Portland, y’all. This ER has seen some things. A menopausal woman drinking wine in her own apartment is the LEAST of their problems.
My ex refused to pick me up from the hospital. I was forced to walk two miles home with a mostly dead phone that I couldn’t use for Uber or Radio Cab, and had no cash.
He stayed out of contact for a week after that.
The ER is still trying to collect payment for ‘treatment’ two years later.
His breakup also cost me my job, as I was counted as a no-call/no-show at my job at 6:00 AM.
Two years out, and I couldn’t be happier!”
—shazzerz
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