on being ill

In a half dream last night, sleep was a volleyball that Cristen and her father were tossing to each other back and forth over my head. I just wanted sleep, I reached up every time it went over my head, but I couldn't get my hands on it. What woke me up was a shooting pain in my lower abdomen that would not go away for forty minutes. I felt like I was dying. I was lying on the floor in the bathroom in a ball holding my stomach sweating wanting to vomit crying, all the things my doctor in California told me not to do when I get pains like these. "Try not to be so dramatic about it," she said. (She's really sensitive, that Dr. Pickering.) I felt like a baby for calling my friends and my mom, but it hurt so bad I didn't know what to do. It finally stopped when the Tylenol started working, but what will I do if it ever happens to me in public? I've had lots of tests done, even an ultrasound, and there seems to be nothing wrong with me. But then why does this happen?