The girl in her pajamas.

I miss you guys.  I mean it.  I just miss sitting down and feeling like I’m talking with you all.  I’ve missed writing in every aspect the last few months.  I know you know things have been a little whacky over here lately.  It’s just unreal to me as this whole thing progresses how little we know about our own bodies.  And it also baffles me what you learn about people as you go through something (for me) a little bit core shaking.

No one likes to feel out of control.  At least I don’t think they do.  And every time we think we have a grasp on this whole situation, a curve ball gets thrown and something changes.  If you follow me on Instagram, you know I ended up in the ER on Monday night.  I had posted it to twitter then got a blasting from my siblings and cousin because I was trying to keep my parents out of the loop.

That’s not as mean as it sounds, I promise.  They’re on a cruise with all of their friends right now.  And my mom was so relieved after my doctor’s appointment last week to know that I wouldn’t end up in the ER or have any surgery or any kind of procedure while she was gone.  Crap.  I think she jinxed me 😉  My sister had strict instructions to contact them if they decided to operate on Monday.  Otherwise, I felt like I didn’t want them to worry on their trip when I was in good hands.  However, I’m having two procedures done on Friday that have me under anesthesia, so I had to write the dreaded email and inform my parents.  

Basically what happened is my symptoms all just progressed to a new level.  Generally speaking through this entire saga, I’ve felt fine while I’m not having what I can only assume is an attack.  My day to day was pretty normal aside from just feeling over all tired.  But Sunday morning I just felt wrong.  Nauseated.  Splitting head ache (have you ever dry heaved with a massive headache?  I swear to you I thought my head cracked open).  Some other symptoms popped up, and I stupidly googled.  It was one of those symptoms that every thing I read on the internet had big, bold letters seek medical attention immediately.  Well, crap.

We had the football potluck on Sunday (you know, the one where our husbands usually wait until less than 24 hours before to tell us we need to make xyz for 25+ people).  I cheated and used boxed chocolate chip cookie brownie bars.  They turned out hard as rocks (yay!) and as I was packing up the goodies I just had that overwhelming fear.  I called my sister and tried not to break down.  I told her what was going on–and she and I were just torn about what to do.  I didn’t want to be the crazy person who went to the ER for no good reason.  But then again I didn’t want to be the moron who had crazy symptoms and ignored them.  I met J at the field house and told him what was going on.  We didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t eat a bite.  

Have you ever had one of those moments in your life when you realize you have to be the adult?  There is no one else that’s going to swoop in and tell you what to do?  And all I wanted was for someone to clear as day say “go to bed” or “go to the ER.”  I even contemplated calling my best friend’s mom and seeking her maternal instinct care.  Ultimately, I went to bed.  I didn’t sleep, but I went to bed.

I hemmed and hawed all day on Monday about going to the doctor.  I called my regular gastro and they couldn’t see me until wednesday but said if the symptoms persisted to go to the ER.  We decided to go to the campus doctor and they turned me away: all booked up.  That’s when we finally decided to just go to the ER.

They really couldn’t do much for me at the ER since I’ve already had almost every test and scan under the sun.  If it did nothing else, it expedited everything.  My first procedure wasn’t supposed to be until Oct 25.  The second one was getting even harder to schedule and they threw November dates out to me.  All the while I just kept thinking you know I’m in pain now, right?  I’ve been trying to be patient.  But all of this has been going on since August and only seems to be getting worse.  But all of your prayers have been helping.  Somehow, miraculously, someone cancelled their appointment for this Friday and they were able to schedule me for both procedures.  I have to have someone with me since they put me under–I knew J would be there, but I just felt bad that he’d be missing some work the day before a game.  I came to find out last night that he doesn’t have to be in until 3 on Friday–he won’t miss a lick of work.  Tears sprung to my eyes.  How miraculously it all worked out.

My best friend and her husband are coming to town this weekend for the game.  I told them what was going on and feared they might say they’d better not come.  I mean, I get it.  Who wants to drive 4.5 to hang out with someone the day they’ve been put under anesthesia?  I gave her an out, and she insisted.  She said she’d rather come and help if she can.  That’s friendship right there, friends.

I’ve felt so loved and supported through all of this.  I’m sorry for the novel–and if you’e made it this far, you rock!  It’s just good to sit down and write it out sometimes.

Happy, uh?  I don’t even know what day it is.  Never mind.