Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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HOW I SOLVED ALL YOUR PROBLEMS

Sitting in the ER from 11pm until 5:30 am (I guess my "condition" was much LESS severe than the guy who had a splinter in his finger; coincidentally, he was one of the ER nurses) was an interesting experience for me. First time, in my life did I enter ER with metal detectors; first time in my life did a kid confuse me with their mom; first time in my life was I in ER with an embarassing problem.

So I sit there all anxious, because across from me there's a serial masturbator. Across from me, there's a guy with blood oozing from his wounds. Hovering around me is a lady talking to herself while trying to scare/wave away some invisible forces around her. Near me is a teenage girl with a curious problem and a curious need to prop her breasts up and pull up her thongs every minute. And here I am, thinking that I might be the only semi-normal one but with an embarassing problem.

So I can't help but have a minor inner panic attack. So I occupy myself in the only normal way I can think off: I try to solve the problem people have been putting off since they realized it was a problem (so roughly 1970s). So I wrote equations and relations and expressions... on magazines, on napkins, on paper towels. I scribbled and crossed things out; I wrote them neatly and then erased. I stopped for a moment, just to resume.

The unique individuals in the ER loked at me as if it was ME who was unbalanced. The security was checking me out if I was not about to go off on anybody. The nursing staff kept a close look at me. And here I was shaking from anxiety and from excitement because I knew I was going to solve it... maybe.

At 3am I got called in to see a doctor. Ten minutes later, I was "fixed" and was now just waiting for the results of the additional tests they took. As I waited, I jotted more ideas. I went to pee in the cup, and I stole TP to write some more. I sit there, and the twitchy serial masturbator was placed next to me. Smart move you doctors! I sat in front of the trauma room with the curtains wide open with the guy bleeding profusely from every possible orifice and some extra that I did not know humans had, and the psych patient making the ever familiar movement with his hands.

This must have been a dream... but then I fell asleep.... just to be woken up by the psych patient wacking me in the head with his jacket. Startled I fall off the seat.

But then it hit me! I knew the solution! After 3 months of me working on it, after 100s of pages full of equations and reactions, I solve the problem old chemists have been avoiding.
Then I get the results to my tests. Then I sign my discharge papers while the nurse comments on the embarassing procedure which was performed to me. But you know, it's okay.... I SOLVED the equation/problem, and no embarrassing incident will affect my little success.

I leave at 5:30am with a baggy of McDonalds.

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Sipping on coffee, watching cartoons, I email Dr. A, I brag about the success, and say I will be late to work.

From now on, anybody who uses the equation will have to reference me in one way or the other. From now one, there is no reason why chemists should not use the real values instead of those imaginary ones....

11:52 p.m. - April 21, 2009

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