You remember the fountain, right? Yeah, how could you forget? Try not to remember all the details, spare yourself, please. But you might remember that by Tuesday I felt pretty ok. I was eating normally. I felt recovered. All was well.
Oh, you guys! I am such a sucker! That tummy bug tricked me good.
Wednesday I was tired. Really, really, tired. I said to Paul that I felt like I had drunk a couple of glasses of wine, except I had none of the happy and all of the heavy-limbed-ness. I put it down to the gastro recovery process and didn’t think much else of it.
Then I drove an hour to my mum’s place, picking up Great Nana on the way, and we all sat around to enjoy a lovely (freaking huge) pile of roast lamb with all the trimmings. My mum lives it large when it comes to serving sizes and my plate was massive. I didn’t finish it all but I did a pretty darn good job.
We sat chatting around the table when my stomach started to freak. It was gurgling and churning and grumbling. I went to visit my old friend, the toilet. Again. And again. No, no fountains, but man, something just ain’t right.
Then an awful pain came snaking it’s way around my chest and shoulder. It felt like I’d pulled a muscle. I kept trying to wriggle and stretch it out, but it hung around for a while. When I described what I was feeling my mum and step-dad both said in unison “gall bladder”. Did I mention that they’re nurses? So they know some stuff. Yeah, they’re not doctors, but still. Nurses!
More toilet, more wriggling, more churning. I felt crap. See what I did there? Master with the vocabulary! Crap.
I was supposed to drive Great Nana home, but I hand balled that journey to (poor, exhausted, just-finished-night-duty) step-dad, popped Pebble in the car and headed home. Normally the long drive on my own is a bit scary because I get sooooooo sleepy. Hoorah for stomach cramps! No sleepy drive on this occasion! We made it home safely, and I made it through the night.
First things first this morning (Thursday morning actually, I’m writing this in the wee hours of Friday morning) I booked a doctors appointment. The doc hummed and hawed and eventually said “hmmm. This will take time and tests”. I popped on over to my friendly IMVS clinic to get some blood taken. I met the Soup Nazi’s cousin: Blood Nazi. She was AMAZING at her job, and she did a whole lotta this: “Sleeve Up. Squeeze Hand. Let Go Now. Press Here. Good Bye”.
Then I got to go home and scoop some poop! There is a long, detailed and humorous story to go with that experience, but I might spare you. I will say that I was a poop scooping ninja. That is all.
I dropped that shit off to the Blood Nazi later in the day, and am now awaiting results in 2-3 days. That means next week. That’s a long time away when you feel like this:
Over and out.