Finally...

I'm writing another post....

Yes, it's true. I've been sick. And finally, I am out of that blasted hospital. It's a love hate relationship.

Here's the story, for all of you this news came as a baseball-bat-to-the-back-of-the-head to.

I felt like poop on Monday. I went to work anyway, I make it a personal goal to never miss work... unless I'm in the hospital.

By 8:30 Monday night I was running a 103 degree fever and was shaking like I was freezing. Couldn't stay still, all the jazz about having a fever. Ben took me home, laid with me for about an hour while I just got sicker, and sicker...finally, he had to go home. He kissed me on the forehead, told me he loved me and to get some rest.

Rest. I tried my hardest. I really did. But notoriously, as I always do, I started bawling my eyes out as soon as I started having stomach pain. And when I say pain, I mean pain. Like, "IflaborisanyworsethanthisIamneverhavingkids" pain.

I don't do well with fevers...they are my nemesis. I told my mom what was going on via text, she said she'd be right down.

Before she even got down the stairs, I was having trouble breathing. Not really, but my body thought I was, because I wouldn't breathe while I was in a bout of shaking. So, as always, I start hyperventilating. And then, as always, I start having carpal-pedal spasms (your hands and feet tense up dramatically due to the offset balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide from hyperventilating).

I think me and my mom both knew it wasn't gonna work, but she gave me a dose of Tylenol, just like the Emergency Room had done last time I went in for this. It was a good call, but not so much. Because I threw it up right away.

I was a bit conscientious about going to the ER because I didn't want my mamma to have to pay for it. But, we went anyway. I kept telling my mom, in between breaths "I'll pay for it, ok?" She eventually told me to shutup. Literally. That's what she said.

So we're in the middle of the 20 minute drive to the ER, and all the sudden it hits me.

I just had a clinical in the ER last night. It's the same shift. They're going to know who I am!

Weird.

So, we're getting all set up in the room, and the doctor comes in. Sure enough, same doctor.

"You know, this isn't part of your clinical experience!" He says.

I wish there was an emoticon for the "evil eye". Because if there was, I'd put it right here.

He basically decides he's going to do blood work, and do a cat scan, make sure it's not appendicitis. Ok, sounds fair.

Results come back, no appendicitis. Instead, it's a virus that mimics appendicitis, Mesenteric Adentitis.

What?


Exactly. It never happens. And neither does my bloodwork.

White blood cells, the cells in your body that fight infection, were at 20.7. Normal is 5-10. Potassium levels were at a critical low. That never happens. Phosphorus levels were at a critical low. That never happens. Ever.

Of course, based on this, doc says there's no way he's sending me home. So I get rolled up to a hospital room. Where I stay for three days.

Three days.

Three days of watching lame TV, needles, morphine, IV's, nurses, vitals, and all sorts of pushing on my belly in the exact place I don't even want to let the blankets touch.

It was great fun.

Well, yesterday I came home, Praise God. And went to class that night.

Ben wasn't very happy with me.