Writing and the Emergency Room

I worry, though not too much, that writing with forethought will expose the demented core of my thought process, stripped of convincing perjury forcing exoneration of guilt through denial of premeditation. In other words, more economical and less confusing, I need to take responsibility for what I write, whether off the cuff or well considered.
      So I do. I have been accused of finding comfort in macabre content, true, but my wheelhouse contains more than gore. You just see.
     Last night I visited the Emergency Room with a higher than usual heart rate and shaky legs that wouldn't bend. I had eaten a salad and developed a gut ache that caused me to wretch, which spiked my blood sugar and stressed my entire body. Sucked. I'm home now but my resolve is a bit shaken, if not stirred.