Hey Casper, Have You Seen My Sheet?

I must really look sick since I keep being told I'm pale as a ghost. Hmm. Maybe they're on to something. But I have decided I'm not going to die anytime soon, so I don't think I'll be heading back to the ER unless something else happens. What's that, you ask? The ER?!?!

Yes, last Friday I took a trip to the ER thanks to mind-numbing abdominal pain that finally decided to disappear about the time I was finally checked in. Oh, don't worry. It came back this morning.

To make a long story marginally short, I started my second day off last week by getting out of bed. Perhaps my first mistake, because that's when the pain started. I thought, okay, maybe it's just gas. It'll pass, right? Well, after three hours of constant pain on my left side that kept getting worse, I decided to throw in the towel. I was hunched over and crying by the time I called my aunt and asked her to give me a ride to the hospital. At that point I would have let them do anything to me, as long as pain killers were involved.

The entire trip to the ER was me crying and wondering if she could possibly manage to miss one or two bumps in the road.

The ER waiting room was thankfully pretty empty, so I didn't have to wait long. But as I sat there, I started realizing that the pain was fading. Hallelujah and what the hell?!? It couldn't have done this a few hours ago? I started thinking of bailing on the ER, but about that time my name was finally called.

Temp, blood pressure and stats taken, I'm shown to a room. Still walking hunched over, but at least I'm not screaming. A PA comes in, mashes around on my stomach while asking me a few questions, says he'll order some tests and get me some morphine. Ahhh, sweet relief on its way.

A half hour passes and the nurse finally returns with the medication. At this point I did something perhaps no other patient the world over has ever done--I turned it down. Yes. The pain had subsided almost completely and I didn't feel the desire to be drugged unnecessarily.

The PA comes back in once the nurse reports this to him. He decides one more poke in the stomach is called for, and after I almost leap off the bed from the pain, decides the problem is likely a ruptured ovarian cyst (which I've had before, but never felt that kind of constant pain with!)

But then came the tests--the peeing in a cup test, the how-much-blood-are-you-planning-on-taking tests, the delightful pelvic, and a couple hours later--the sonogram with the "heynicetomeetyou" vaginal scope. I was starting to wonder how many more people were planning on taking a look down there.

After four hours of boredom and realization that despite a slight fever I was feeling pretty good, the ER doc came in and told me that the test results came back normal and because the sonogram couldn't get a good look at my left ovary, they couldn't confirm--but were still going with--the ruptured cyst. At that point I didn't care. I just wanted to go home. I was discharged and handed a list of things to do and not do (like not work for two days. Hello! It's Friday at 4pm!) and a prescription for Vicodin.

I felt pretty good on Saturday and Sunday. Didn't really take it easy, but did manage to get naps in. My aunt and I went fleamarketing, where I found some great items I'll talk about later, and the painters came Sunday to take care of my schizophrenic living room walls.

Then this morning, once again I made the mistake of getting up. I went to pee, and the pain began again. I convinced myself it wasn't as bad as Friday, but I did kind of wish I had gotten that prescription filled.

I went on to work and just went straight to my office and sat down at my desk, hunched over in pain. This went on for about an hour, and then I sneezed.

And once again the pain subsided.... Um. Weird. How could sneezing have possibly helped? Guess it's another thing to discuss with the doctor during my follow-up appointment.

I just hope the pain doesn't rear its ugly head tonight while bowling.