If someone had asked you last week the likelihood that you would be having foot and ankle surgery in Orange County, California, you would have told them they were crazy. But that was before you tripped over your own feet going down the steps at the convention center and broke your ankle.

And before you spent a horrific six hours in the emergency room in absolute agony without a sole to talk to, without a book to read, without a television to distract you, without being able to sleep. You learned the visceral meaning of “stir crazy.”

A nurse explains that a six-car accident has kept them busy with priority care. You feel guilty for being resentful. You may be in pain but you’re not fighting for your life.

Finally they admit you and take you to your room. Your surgery is scheduled for 6:00 a.m. They drug you for the night. All is well.