Six to Seven Tabs of Ecstasy

"I'm gonna die!"

"No, you're not going to -- not today, sweety."

I told the nurse practitioner she could leave. "I've been to Burning Man," I said to her, "I know how this stuff works. It'll wear off."

So, she left the girl's room.

Then, it was me by her mattress and the girl lying down on the mattress ontop of the cold, saliva glazed floor.

I took her vitals every three minutes or so. Her heart rate was fast -- 90's and up to 140 when she was screaming purely incoherent babble.

Then, she fell asleep.

No muscle tone.

Limp.

I checked for her chest rising and falling.

Not rising and falling.

Radial pulse.

No beat.

Check again!

Nothing.

Jaw thrust.

Fifteen and two. Fifteen and two. Fifteen and two.

I pulled out my cell phone and called the clinic. Linda, the legally blind nurse, the nurse going through kidney and pancreatic rejection, answered in her sweet, wonderful, yet black ghetto voice, "Hello?"

"Linda, tell them to step up the EMS response! We need a level one!"

Jesus Christ. She's fucking dead.

Just like she said, she's fucking dead.