"The doctor will see you shortly," said Nurse Redheart with a smile as she stepped out of the room.
The "waiting room," she had called it. A room for waiting in. An entire chamber devoted to leaving a pony sitting down for an unspecified period of time as other ponies prepare to meet with them. Pinkie did not like the very idea of the room. But it was normal. The nurse had told her it was normal to wait. So she would wait.
But waiting was just so... dull. So boring. It was almost the definition of unexciting. In fact, if Pinkie ever made a dictionary, she'd put a picture of waiting next to the word unexciting. Although, she wasn't sure how she would photograph a concept like that. Maybe take a picture of a pony waiting? Or maybe two ponies waiting?
No, waiting was an alone thing. If you were with somepony else, then you were spending time with them. Even if you were waiting for something else, once somepony else was there, waiting became time spending. Time well spent. A fun time.
This was not a fun time.
Pinkie tried to think of something interesting. Perhaps she could come up with a name for the Cake's new menu item? It was a pancake that was cooked and then put into French toast batter. They were just going to call it a French toast pancake, but Pinkie was sure that a better name could be created. Something that would stimulate the taste-buds as much as the delicious breakfast item itself.
It's a pancake plus French toast... How about a Frenchcake? Or maybe pantoast? Frenchcake sounds fun. It sounds like a fluffy, golden battered piece of cake! Which is just what that is! But then again, pantoast rhymes with more things. Maybe that would help the signage? "Try our pantoast! It's more scrumptious than most!" Oh, that's good too! But which sounds more delicious? I should ask somepony else what they think! Smiling, Pinkie looked out to the room.
Yet nopony looked back to her. It was silent. Empty. Her hair deflated a full level. There was no one to ask, but she couldn't decide on her own. She'd just have to wait until later. But later was taking so long. It was like later was getting here late itself! How could later be late? Of course, maybe that's how later always is? But then is sooner always soon? Couldn't sooner sometimes just be a bit less later than later?
How long had it been now? Five hours? Seventeen hours? It felt like an eternity. Endless waiting. Nothing ever happening. This was even worse than the time she'd spent watching paint dry. But at least then she knew something fun would come at the end of it. After that she could spend time with her friends. All that awaited her now was boring tests and questions about what she was eating. What motivation did she have to go on? To even survive?
You can do this, Pinkie, she thought. Just a bit longer...
After all, a pony can't really die of boredom, right?
"Alright, Miss Pie," Nurse Redheart re-entered about three minutes after she had left. A smile still adorned her face. "Doctor Horse will see you now." Yet the moment she saw the pink mare lying unconscious on the floor of the room, her smile vanished and she called for the doctor at once. Then she went over to Pinkie and began to examine her. She wouldn't respond to the nurse's voice, or to being pushed. She seemed to be breathing but, upon checking her pulse, the nurse could tell something was not right. Even in her comatose state the mare had a rapid heart rate.
When Doctor Horse entered, Nurse Redheart advised him of the situation. "She's out cold. Her pulse is rapid. I can't seem to wake her up."
The doctor quickly sprang into action. "Help me lift this patient into room 4A," he ordered. The two pulled Pinkie up and carried her across the room. "What happened?" he asked, his voice slightly strained from the effort.
"I'm not sure," said Redheart. "I told her you'd be ready to see her in a minute. When I came back, she was on the floor."
The two brought Pinkie into a room and laid her down in a bed. As Doctor Horse put on gloves and a mask, Nurse Redheart attached instruments to Pinkie's body.
"Oh, sweet Celestia!" she gasped. "Her pulse is almost 300! Blood pressure is 202 over 114!"
Doctor Horse gaped at the monitors. How could this have happened? A routine checkup resulting in a hypertensive crisis. It was unheard of. Thinking quickly, he said, "Get me a vial of ketamine. We need to calm her down before her circulatory system fails."
Looking to a shelf behind her, the nurse found some of the tranquilizer and passed it to Doctor Horse, who quickly measured out a dosage and injected it into Pinkie's foreleg. The two looked at the monitors and, to their astonishment, saw no change. Actually, her pulse increased.
The doctor looked down at his patient and tried to evaluate her again. He could not see her chest rising. "Is she still breathing?"
"Barely," said Redheart after placing a hoof over Pinkie's mouth. "But her oxygen levels are going down. Now only 92 percent. 91. 90!"
Hypoxemia on top of everything else! If the levels fell below 80%, there could be brain damage. The doctor took a breath. One step at a time. He needed to deal with these problems one step at a time.
"Get me the manual suction pump. We need to get air into her lungs!" The nurse galloped to the other side of the room and returned with the device as quickly as possible. Giving the doctor the pump, and working to place the pipe into Pinkie's trachea. The doctor began to use the bag to force air into the mare's lungs.
Again, the two looked to their monitors, and again were shocked to find that there was no change in the patient's status. After a minute or so, the doctor removed the pump and shook his head. "Why won't this work?"
"Isn't there anything more you can do?" Redheart pleaded.
"I'm thinking. Please, let me think."
"Oxygen levels are still dropping," Nurse Redheart shouted. "Now down to 82! We're losing her, doctor."
"Darn it, nurse! I'm a doctor, not an alicorn princess! I can't just resuscitate her with the Elements of Harmony!"
Nurse Redheart looked to the floor with a somber expression.
"I just don't understand," Doctor Horse said. "Why can't we get a response with our instruments? Her body should--"
A stallion wearing a red nose, oversized shoes, and a white coat burst into the room. "Stand back!" he declared. "I'll save her!" Running forward, he placed a party blower in his mouth and, upon reaching Pinkie, blew with all of his might.
One of Pinkie's ears twitched, but she remained otherwise unresponsive.
"No effect. Nurse!" the stallion shouted. "On my mark, squeeze this rubber duck and giggle at it. Doctor," he turned to Doctor Horse. "I need you to sit on this whoopie cushion. And make sure to act embarrassed when it goes off!"
Doctor Horse looked at the stallion as if he were insane. How could this possibly help his patient.
"Don't just stand there!" The stallion shook the cushion out before the doctor. "Can't you see this pony is dying of boredom? If we don't inject her with some fun ASAP, we'll lose her!"
Nothing else the good doctor had tried would work. Maybe this pony could help, although his explanation for this condition seemed as ludicrous as his outfit. Looking to his nurse, the doctor nodded and took the cushion.
"On my mark!" the newcomer yelled. "3. 2. 1. Mark!"
Duck, blower, and cushion let forth their ridiculous, silly sounds. To the astonishment of Nurse Redheart, the patient jolted, a gasp of air entering her lungs.
"Again!"
The three repeated the process and, like magic, Pinkie Pie gave a full breath, in and out.
"And again!"
A final time the team tooted their toys, and the mare began to breathe in short bursts. Soon, Doctor Horse could recognize the breathing pattern: she was laughing.
Redheart quickly looked to the monitors. "Blood pressure stabilizing. Heart rate 100 and dropping. Oxygen levels..." she turned to the doctor and gave a sigh of relief. "Returning to normal."
Doctor Horse wiped his brow. It had been a long time since he'd lost a patient, and he was grateful that today was not another one of those days. Looking to the mare's savior, he said, "Thank you, sir. You just saved her life."
"All in a day's work," he smiled. "She should be alright now. If you'll excuse me, I need to return to the psychiatric ward."
Ah, so it made sense now. This pony was an expert in psychology. Doctor Horse nodded. "Of course, you need to get back to your duties. Before you leave, can I get your name? Doctor...?"
The stallion began to laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry. You're mistaken. I'm not a doctor here. I'm a patient!" The gentlecolt then turned and literally bounced out of the room, whistling to himself.
The doctor and nurse watched the doors swing shut behind him, mouths agape. Pinkie, who had just finished her laughing spell, said, "Ooooo, Pizza Slice is still here! I should go visit him after my checkup. Do you think he still has the same room?"
The doctor swung back around to face Pinkie. "Were you a patient with him at some point?"
Pinkie shook her head. "No, we just all know each other."
He breathed in, about to ask, but decided against it. This whole situation had become so crazy that he was seriously considering just taking the rest of the day off at this point. Looking up at the instruments and down to his charts, he said, "Well, Miss Pie, these instruments here now show you're reading as mostly normal. Your blood sugar's a bit high; you should cut back on the sweets and junk food. Otherwise, you seem to be a mare in good health. If you don't have any questions, I suppose you're free to go."
"Okie dokie!" Pinkie got off the bed to leave and hopped across the floor. But, before exiting the room, turned back, "Oh, Doctor Horse. I do have one little question."
"What is it?" asked the doctor curiously.
"Which do you think sounds better? Frenchcake or pantoast? I kinda prefer pantoast, but only because it rhymes with 'most' as in..."
Author's Note
Please note: I am not a doctor, all of the medical information in here is completely fictional, and if you take your emergency medical advice from a person who writes pony stories on the internet, I think you may want to see a psychiatrist. A real one, not a mental patient acting like one. 
