the juicy details

Heh heh heh. So apparently people get all in a tizzy when you post hospital pictures of yourself with no details, huh?! Good times! In my moments of consciousness today, I enjoyed getting a laugh at the comments and texts yall left. It feels good to be cared about. 

It does not feel good to have what I have.

So Sunday was a normal, healthy day. I felt 100% fine. At about 10:05pm, I felt totally fine. At about 10:06pm I was knocked out on the floor of the shower (because I happened to be showering) with the strongest, most horrible, where-the-heck-did-this-come-from abdominal pain I've ever felt. And let's review: I've had LOTS of ovarian cysts rupture in my day. Since that post I linked to, I think I've had 3 or 4 more rupture? And THAT (cysts rupturing) is pretty much The Pain By Which All Other Pain Shall Be Measured. So I'm no stranger to abdominal pain. But this wasn't normal cyst-rupturing-pain. The onset was different. The timing in my cycle was wrong. And it was in a different part of my stomach. In my wet, half-hysterical state (seriously, I went from Normal Erika Taking a Shower to Hysterical Erika Flailing Naked On The Floor Of the Bathroom in about 4 seconds flat), I immediately suspected my old enemy, the appendix. I hate appendices. They just LURK there, up to no good, a constant threat of pain and surgery hanging over your head. And until you get it OUT, you can never truly rest worry-free...because it's always there. Threatening. Lurking. So naturally, my first thought (after ruling out rupturing cyst) is Rupturing Appendix. Matt and I spend about 10 minutes watching me writhe in the bed, convulsing with pain, before we decide to pack up the car and head towards Athens. Please remember that we live WAY TOO FAR AWAY FROM THE HOSPITAL FOR A TIME SUCH AS THIS. So while we hoped that the pain would start subsiding on its own, we decided we'd start driving anyway, just in case it didn't.

Oh, it didn't. Instead, the pain got WORSE and WORSE and then there was nausea and constant shaking that can only be described as convulsing because I couldn't STOP shaking. My whole body. I think I was physically shaking the car the whole way to the ER. Once at the ER, Matt loaded my hunched-up body into a wheelchair and cruised me through the ER where everyone looked at me like it was the Freak Parade coming through. Screw you, perfectly healthy looking people having a Family Reunion at 11pm in the ER. Keep your stares to yourself. It was a good thing I was shaking so much or I probably would have slapped the check-in girl who was asking me inane questions like "what seems to be the problem?" and "can you confirm your address?" and "can you sign these papers?" (no, I could not physically hold a pen, but thanks for asking). They got me through triage quickly and I got my own room. Then there were 20 terrifying minutes that they spent getting me hooked up to all of the machines and IVs. Please remember that I was CONVULSING UNCONTROLLABLY. As in, my whole body, shaking. Now try to picture them trying to insert IVs. Um, yeah. There were quite a few mis-sticks. I have lots of bruises. But ultimately I didn't care because THE MORPHINE OH THE SWEET MORPHINE (and the Zofran) that flooded my body and made me stop shaking. And barely took the edge off the pain in my tummy.

After the morphine, it was hours and hours of exams and tests. When bloodwork and urinalysis revealed nothing useful, and the internal exam showed that the pain really wasn't in my ovaries, they decided to do a CT scan. Here is where we start Part 2 of the story (Part 1 was The Pain and The Shaking): The Thirst. I was thirsty in the car on the way over. I'd had my water bottle, but swallowing had proven to be too much for The Shakes and The Nausea, so I hadn't drank any. Once the morphine and Zofran kicked in, I started begging for water. And here's what they told me: NO. Here, you poor thirsty girl, we will give you another bag of fluids. But can I have some water in my mouth because I am so parched? No. Because we are doing lots of tests and you can't have any water for them. But I think I am now dying of dehydration instead of whatever is wrong with my stomach. Can I please have some water? NO. Here, we will put more stupid fluids in your stupid IV and also another dose of morphine so that you will fall asleep and quit bugging us about water. Bah. The best news about the CT scan was that first you have to drink this 'smoothie' (generous terminology) that contains the contrast dye. It was like 20 ounces or something, and it tasted like ground up Berry Tums, but it was cold and wet and delicious for about half of it, and then my body decided it was Done With It and it started tasting like death and worse. But I followed the instructions of my radiology tech guy, who told me to "chug-a-lug!", and I got the job done. Then you have to wait 2 hours for it to do something before you can get the CT scan. That had them wheeling me down the hall for my CT scan at about 3:30am. The CT scan was a new and interesting experience, but unfortunately all it revealed was that my appendix was intact, I didn't have kidney stones, and I had some "huge" masses on my ovaries.

The Huge Masses helped my doctor decide that next I would need a 30 minute long internal ultrasound. He was concerned that the size/weight of the masses could be causing my ovaries to twist, which would result in the blood being cut off to the ovaries, which would necessitate surgery if I ever hoped to use my ovaries again (I do). Unfortunately, there was no one in the hospital qualified to do the ultrasound, so they had to call the on-call person, so it meant I had to wait another few hours for the next thing. Matt and I passed the time by attempting to squeeze together on my bed (for warmth and rest), making bets on my blood pressure monitor and what it would show on the next auto-check, and periodically begging nurses and techs to give me water, which none of them would. I swear I felt like Katniss when she was thirsting in the arena...someone give me a sponsor with a friggin glass of water!!!!! Because of course they did not want any water in me for the ultrasound. Whenever that may be.

Finally the ultrasound person arrived and I don't think she was happy about being called in in the middle of the night because she was none too personable with the whole situation. The ultrasound took forever and I dozed through most of it, while secretly hatching my next plan to get water and morphine. My plan for morphine worked-- my plan for water failed. GAH! Anyway, after my doctor looked at the ultrasounds, he was really more confused than before hand. There was a lot of fluid in my pelvis. There were definitely huge masses on each ovary, but they hadn't ruptured and therefore wouldn't be the cause of the current pain (although they will probably rupture in the future, so I have that to look forward to!). It appeared that they were causing my ovaries to tilt, but they hadn't twisted that he could see...but he really just couldn't see enough from the ultrasound. He decided to give my regular gynecologist a nice 5am wake-up call to consult with her about the situation.

Ultimately they decided that they wanted to see more ultrasounds later in the day, to assess if things had changed and hopefully get a better view of the possibly-twisting ovaries. They said I could either stay in the hospital or go back home to wait for my appointment in the morning. I decided to go home because by now Matt was delirious from exhaustion (no sleep all night) and there was nowhere for him to rest in my hospital room. I figured I could Man Up the pain, but GUESS WHAT?! They finally allowed me to drink something-- but that's ALL I could do. Clear liquids until after my next ultrasound and consultation. No food. This actually sounded a lot worse than it ended up being. The ongoing nausea and pain had me not caring about food in the least. They didn't want me to eat because if I needed surgery later in the day, it would need to be on an empty stomach.

We made it home and had about 30 minutes of catnapping before we had to turn around and drive back to Athens for appointments at 2 different places. My next ultrasound was with a MUCH nicer person and a much nicer facility, so that was nice. It was also way faster. Then we had an hour to kill before my follow-up with my doctor, so we did what normal adults do at 10am and slept in the car in a parking lot. And then went inside and promptly fell asleep on the couch in the waiting room. Classy.

Then we got called back to our room and I (guess what?) fell asleep on the exam table. Narcotic drugs and I (and a night of sleep deprivation) do not make for an exciting pair. Finally my doctor came in and he said that they decided I had a Hemorrhagic Ovarian Cyst. It's similar to my regular ovarian cysts, only this time a blood vessel had gotten fused into the cyst and then somehow tore, causing blood to hemorrhage into my body. The blood flooding my internal cavity and being absorbed by the lining is what caused so much pain. Additionally, as the blood begins to clot, it restricts blood flow and causes more pain. They're apparently fairly rare. As with other rupturing cysts, there's nothing they can do for the problem; they just treat the pain. He also said that because of the cycle of the internal bleeding/clotting, it will probably be about 2 weeks until the pain and nausea completely go away. YAY.

After picking up a pharmacy's worth of drugs, we finally made it back home to sleep until 5pm. Although I've been cleared to eat, I still couldn't bring myself to do it until a few minutes ago, when I managed to not throw up half a quesadilla. It felt like a victory.

And now I am stuck on the couch for the foreseeable future, since moving and walking are extremely painful endeavors. Therefore you can help make this time easier for me by blogging a lot and constantly updating your facebooks and twitter. Thanks so much. :)   

Where's Erika?

What an exciting night I've had! Wanna guess what I've been up to? Here are some clues:

Ok, as it turns out, I have no clue how to use this Blogger app. Are my pictures here? I will hit "publish" to find out. If the pictures appear, feel free to guess what exciting things brought me to this place! If no pictures appear, then sit tight and I'll add them when I get home.

P.S. I'm fine. Hopefully. More details when I know them.

guess i'm from The Jetsons

The other day Matt and I received a Homeowner's Insurance packet in the mail. Like a responsible citizen, I promptly ignored it and placed it on the desk to be filed away with all other Boring Important Correspondence. Matt, however, being who he is, decided to take it out of the envelope and peruse it before filing it away. Silly, I know. But as it turns out, it was a good thing he did. Because you know what those *@&$*@s have decided to stop covering? In the event something happened to our home??

I'll let you see for yourself.

WHAT? Are you freaking KIDDING ME?! You're not covering my HOVERCRAFT? And you call this customer service...

Because apparently I live in the future, or the Capitol, or perhaps even on the Jetsons.

Let's take a vote: would you shop around and take your homeowning insurance business elsewhere if your company stopped covering something as crucial as hovercraft?

Sheesh.

In unrelated news, it is a very important weekend: so important it merits an OUTFIT OF THE DAY picture (or 2)!!!!!

It is GARDEN PLANTING WEEKEND!!!

 This is my official Summer Yardwork Uniform, as referenced the other day. If you drive by my house during the next 6 months, there is a really good chance you'll see me outside sporting something looking like this. In true OOTD form, let me enthrall you with the details:

Shorts- Nike Tempo, hand-me-downs from my neighbor 
Tank- Old Navy, hand-me-down from Kristina 
Shoes- Asics (I actually bought something on my own, what what!)
Hat- my sacred yellow Masters hat, Dirty Edition (I have 2 identical hats: one is "dirty" and suitable for getting sweaty and...dirty...and the other is in pristine condition and only acceptable for fashion use and/or attending golf tournaments)
Gloves- no clue. They've lived in my garage for as long as I can remember.

And this is my Gardening Game Face, which is the last thing weeds, ants, and stubborn rocks stuck in the clay see before they die.

Game ON! Happy Weekend!

MY heart will go on...

It's been awhile since I've participated in Way Back When-sday, but I think that shortly you will be agreeing with me: it was worth the wait.

No cutesy logo anymore, since Allison decided to stop hosting. Like her, I was finding it difficult to find inspiration/pictures/time to scan stuff every week. But then there are those times that inspiration just jumps out and bites you. Inspiration so strong that you deem it worth the trouble of crawling up into the attic, fighting through all of the Christmas decorations you haphazardly threw up there a few months ago, digging out the giant Tupperware tub of "old stuff from Mom & Dad's house," and rifling through 25 photo albums ALL so that you can find The Picture.

The other day, I mentioned my excitement about seeing the Titanic preview before Hunger Games started. I also mentioned that back in the day, I saw the movie a half dozen few times in the theater. Luckily, I was rewarded with several comments affirming that I am not the only one cherishing such fond memories of the Titanic phenomenon-- nor am I the only one excitedly anticipating the re-release next month. I was thinking all of this through, when suddenly it all came back to me.

The Obsession.

You know how sometimes your memory blocks things out because if you remembered them all the time, it could be really embarrassing or humiliating? But then sometimes your brain will let you remember them, just so that you can congratulate yourself on how far you've come as a human and how super not-lame you are now. Well thankfully, The Obsession normally lies dormant somewhere in my subconscious. Until now. When I'm going to share it with you. And then I'll need you all to forget it and never bring it up again, thanks.

When Titanic came out, I don't think I just liked it. I didn't just enjoy the soundtrack. I didn't just happen to find myself at the theater every weekend for over a month, watching the same movie. I'm pretty sure I was legitimately obsessed. Here's my evidence:

1) Back in early 1998, I had already reached Level Ten Black Belt Ninja Warrior Internet Stalker status. Meaning I could and would search out anything my little 15 year old heart desired: and what it was desiring, apparently, was Titanic. The script. The whole script. And so what did I do? I found that movie script. And then I printed it.

All couple hundred pages of it.

Oh yes, it took a long time. And STACKS of (my dad's) paper. I had to stand there at the printer for HOURS, feeding paper into that thing! But when it was done? I had the whole entire script to the blockbuster movie, stage directions and all. It was so awesome. I carried it to school in my backpack and was the envy of a few super lame people everyone. And then my dad found out. And he was not as impressed by my dedication to Rose and Jack as I was. Spoilsport.

2) I couldn't NOT be surrounded with reminders of Jack and Rose's true love-- what if I forgot, even for a minute, and found myself whisked off to marry some rich jerk? Can't happen. So since this was before the days when I could just whip out my phone and see pictures of them, and since I apparently spent all of my money on movie tickets and had none left to invest in a Tiger Beat or something, I had to make do with what I did have: my dad's printer.

 Can you see it? It's my Titanic collage! There's Leo, right in the middle-- prime real estate. Across the top we have one of the movie banners, the "I'm flying, Jack!" scene, and our star-crossed lovers embracing. On the bottom are two more heart-wrenching close-ups. And this collage? I carried it with me everywhere. Where I went, it went. And I'm not gonna lie-- people were pretty jealous of it. I probably could have started a sweet collage-selling-side-business if my dad hadn't put his printer in a locked cabinet.*

The only thing that could make this story sweeter would be if I still HAD the collage, but sadly, I don't think I do. At some point, my brain tried to help me save a little face by destroying the evidence of The Obsession, including the collage and the script. Which is super sad, because HOW FUN would it be to still have that script and get some folks together to act out the movie??!!! I know. Dibs on being Rose.

 

*Just kidding, he didn't really lock up his printer. But I think we had to have a Serious Conversation regarding proper usage of paper and ink, leading me to believe he wouldn't want to be fronting the equipment for my new Titanic Collage Business.