[plundered]
A little over a month ago, my side hurt pretty badly. So John took me to the ER. After 13 hours of fun there, they sent me home and told me to see a girlpartdoctor. So I did. He said he'd fix me.
Today I had surgery, of a laparoscopic nature. Right now I have two little incisions, lots of air inside me (my ears keep popping!), a super bruised belly and some super pain. I also have percocet, so it's not so bad.
The findings of the surgery, you ask? Well, I have PCOS - look it up if you dare. You'll know more about me than you probably want to. I will be treated with hormones for now, and hopefully that'll help out a lot. I'll be sure to keep everyone awkwardly informed on the progress of my ovaries.
John and Camille left me gifts on my front door last night. They made me quite happy this morning. I wish I had thought to bring the truffles to my mom's (I'm at my mom's right now so she can check on me every 5 seconds), because I could take those things out in one sitting right now. The doc told me that since they messed around with my stuff down yonder, my hormone levels could be a little weird. I really wanted a grilled cheese and a doughnut earlier. My mom catered to my needs. Thanks, mom.
So now I'm sitting in my old room, wishing I could cough really hard but at the same time afraid I'll pop a stitch. So I'm just sort of clearing my throat really loudly. It's not helping. I should probably just go to sleep, but I've been asleep most of the day. My body doesn't know what's going on. All it knows is that it's all swolled (yeah I made that up) up and full of air and bruises. Gross.
Despite all the current issues, I'm glad to know what's up with me, and I'm glad to have put a name on something that's sort of been around all my life, but has such weird and seemingly disconnected symptoms that I never thought they had anything to do with each other. Hopefully now that we know, I can fix myself and keep things from getting worse as I get older. Being a grown-up kind of blows.
If this didn't make sense, I'm not responsible. My discharge instructions told me not to try to make any decisions today, not to sign any important papers and that I'm not physically or mentally stable enough to be held responsible for my actions. That's pretty much true most days, but I have a doctor's note for this day. Maybe I should go out and raise some hell. "Officer, check out this note - not responsible!" Though I'd have to raise hell while walking really slowly and kind of hunched over... it'd be worth it.
Annnnd sleep.
Today I had surgery, of a laparoscopic nature. Right now I have two little incisions, lots of air inside me (my ears keep popping!), a super bruised belly and some super pain. I also have percocet, so it's not so bad.
The findings of the surgery, you ask? Well, I have PCOS - look it up if you dare. You'll know more about me than you probably want to. I will be treated with hormones for now, and hopefully that'll help out a lot. I'll be sure to keep everyone awkwardly informed on the progress of my ovaries.
John and Camille left me gifts on my front door last night. They made me quite happy this morning. I wish I had thought to bring the truffles to my mom's (I'm at my mom's right now so she can check on me every 5 seconds), because I could take those things out in one sitting right now. The doc told me that since they messed around with my stuff down yonder, my hormone levels could be a little weird. I really wanted a grilled cheese and a doughnut earlier. My mom catered to my needs. Thanks, mom.
So now I'm sitting in my old room, wishing I could cough really hard but at the same time afraid I'll pop a stitch. So I'm just sort of clearing my throat really loudly. It's not helping. I should probably just go to sleep, but I've been asleep most of the day. My body doesn't know what's going on. All it knows is that it's all swolled (yeah I made that up) up and full of air and bruises. Gross.
Despite all the current issues, I'm glad to know what's up with me, and I'm glad to have put a name on something that's sort of been around all my life, but has such weird and seemingly disconnected symptoms that I never thought they had anything to do with each other. Hopefully now that we know, I can fix myself and keep things from getting worse as I get older. Being a grown-up kind of blows.
If this didn't make sense, I'm not responsible. My discharge instructions told me not to try to make any decisions today, not to sign any important papers and that I'm not physically or mentally stable enough to be held responsible for my actions. That's pretty much true most days, but I have a doctor's note for this day. Maybe I should go out and raise some hell. "Officer, check out this note - not responsible!" Though I'd have to raise hell while walking really slowly and kind of hunched over... it'd be worth it.
Annnnd sleep.