A week ago tonight I was sitting in the emergency room totally not enjoying myself. Having the exact opposite of fun, doubled over in pain from my midsection thanks to my fickle, crappy colon and intestines. Thanks to increasing problems in my gut over the past year, it finally culminated in a bout last week that landed me in the hospital for nearly five days. But I finally got a diagnosis for my stomach issues, or at least a partial diagnosis with Diverticulitis. The next step is figuring out what’s causing the Diverticulitis, but it’s very likely Diverticulosis since my mother has it. Diverticulitis runs on my dad’s side of the family anyway so either way I’m screwed.
But my mom told me today how lucky I am that I was able to feel pain that let me know I needed to go to the hospital. The pain was my sign that there was an infection that had to be treated, but apparently there are people who never feel the pain or if they do, it doesn’t become more than discomfort and so they don’t get it checked out. In a lot of cases it can be fatal. So I’m really trying to be positive about this whole thing, and feel even more lucky to be alive as I swallow horse pills of Cipro and continue eating a low residue diet. Actually, I’m not really complaining about a low residue diet because to be honest here, I’m still afraid to eat much of anything that could stick in the little pockets in my intestines that aren’t supposed to be there.
So not good for someone who has had disordered eating.
If you want to know what the pain was like, imagine someone taking a long, super-thin, super-sharp blade and shoving it into your colon and intestines at the same time and then swirling it around like they’re beating whipped cream by hand and then pausing for breaks in between. So. Much. Fun. It’s even more fun feeling like that in the ER with your husband, your 10 year old, your 7 year old, and your 5 year old and trying to minimize your expressions of pain while simultaneously reassure your 7 year old that you’re not actually dying. It’s way, way more fun when you’re enduring the pain and having to break up the bickering over Nintendo DS bullshit between the kids AND the spouse. But luckily, you remembered to tell the kids to pack snacks before leaving the house.
And luckily, you demanded the computer be brought to the hospital on the 2nd full day being in the hospital in order to maintain contact with the kids’ teachers since that’s their main way of communicating with parents. Plus, Facebook makes the hospital stay easier. Tethered to your bed by an IV running antibiotics, morphine, and nutrition (because you’re not allowed to even drink water)? Harvest some crops baby!
Well, it’s time to get the kids to bed. The eldest princess just got home from a Girl Scout haunted hike and I’m tired.