What I was feeling

When I fall sick, a lot of things run through my mind. 

What do I have? Is it appendicitis? A kidney stone? An infection superimposed on a kidney stone? Cystitis? 

What am I going to do about it? Because I don't want to go to a GP or a hospital. 

Generally, depending on the response to treatment (ie my stash of antibiotics and whatever, don't ask), I tend to cycle between these two phases over and over again. 

I used to think that underlying all this was I don't want to go to the hospital. The waiting time is long, I would get poked, have an IV set, the bed would be uncomfortable, the blanket thin (you can ask for another), the food shitty. No snacks. No waddles (my super-soft penguin). No box of tissues for my always-runny nose. I would be bored. And in a silent hospital room, even more lonely. 

I guess all that is really a distraction. What I'm really feeling deep down is: I don't want to die. 

I don't want to die. 

And I'm scared.