‘Oh, my G*d!”
It was fall 2020, and I had just been taken by ambulance to a New York City hospital. Without a doubt, the paramedics thought I was wasting their time and was merely having a panic attack. (If panic was an element, the 911 dispatcher yelling at me may have had something to do with it.) They all but got out their smelling salts so the silly woman would drop her drama and not faint. As they rolled me into the hospital, a male nurse uttered the aforementioned blasphemous exclamation when reacting to my blood pressure. Needless to say, his response only heightened it.
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