This is it

Confession: I don't have any money. No one is interested in me for my money. So when I get sick, I'm screwed.

I got sick.

The Boyfriend and I waited. Waited. Waited until we weren't seeing straight. Waited until we each separately annoyed the nurse on duty. Waited.

I finally got seen by a real, live doctor eleven hours after I arrived at the clinic. (If I ever become a politician, my most harped upon platform will likely be healthcare, in case you were wondering.) I talked to the doctor, he left. An hour later, he came back. An hour later, another doctor came. The Boyfriend and I were exhausted. We began taking tiny, fitful naps on the gurney that was set up in the room. Crammed next to each other, touching pinkies, drifting in and out of sleep, it felt like the best moment of my life. (The pinkies, not the circumstances.)

I'm fine for all concerned parties. Just another of the details that make this love thing worthwhile. Another anecdote to describe the parts of it, another way of me saying this is it without me saying it. This is it.