just my luck

Today is Friday the 13th, and yeah I'm not usually superstitious--I can leave that to people who think stepping under a ladder is crucial to one's imminent future (and luck)--but I happen to be superstitious about Friday the 13ths. Four years ago, Friday, August 13, 2004, I woke up at about 10 a.m. and was almost immediately carted off to the hospital because I was disgustingly sick. It turns out that there were a boatload of undiscovered problems lurking beneath my skin. That's just my luck. But what stinks is that August 13 is my cousin's birthday and I was so excited about being able to go to her party, since she's older than me and I would be able to hang out with her and her friends. and I had traded in her party for a day vomiting, being prodded by needles, and peeing in cups at the hospital. Funfun, really.
So whenever a Friday the 13th rolls around, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my shoulder muscles tense, and I have to take ten deep breaths before I can walk out of the house. I'm always afraid that something bad will happen again...believe me, if I land in the hospital AGAIN I will freak out. Because I hate hospitals and being in them. They give off bad vibes...wow, that sounded so trippy-hippy pathetic. But you know what I mean.