So I've had this annoying pain in my abdomen for a few days, ever since my cold, and finally decided to call my doctor's office after someone I work with was like, "That's what they're there for, Red." Okay then. So I called and told them how I was feeling (the pain is more I-was-recently-kicked-by-a-mule than nausea) and they thought from the way I was describing it that it sounded like appendicitis. What? That's not the "itis" where you get ice cream afterwards, is it? Damn you Cindy Brady, you made tonsillitis look like a trip to the zoo.
Anyway, they said I had to come in right away. Fine, twist my arm to leave work. It was Field Day anyway (in the elementary school that I went to they called it the Goofy Olympics, unfortunately enough) so it didn't really matter: "Oh, hey you guys, I can't referee Capture the Flag because my intestines might be rupturing. Go blue team!"
I was feeling okay, save for the mule kick, so I went home to put some stuff in a bag in case I really did have to have my appendix taken out. What, like I'm not going to want to change my clothes just because I have to have minimally invasive surgery? Then I got on IM and told Elusive Jen and Joe and Dave about it and that it was probably much ado about nothing and what was going on with them? They were all like, um, go to the hospital, Red.
So I went and they poked me and took my blood and said I looked pale, but that's how I always look. (I once had a dermatologist tell me that my complexion was made for overcast British skies. Doesn't that seem oddly poetic for a doctor?) Then I had an ultrasound, during which they concluded that I am not pregnant. Darn it all, Fake Husband Brett and I will just have to keep trying. Maybe cutting back on the Ortho Tri-Cyclen would help.
Yeah, so basically, nothing's wrong. I have a tummy ache; they're giving me Prilosec or something. It's a little embarrassing. But I still stand by the fact that it's a TOTALLY WEIRD tummy ache. I wonder if my HMO will agree.
Then I'm driving home and Dorie had left me a message on my cell that she'd come to the hospital and hang out with me if I was just waiting around. I called to thank her and accidentally called Dave instead. So I was thinking, that's fine, I'll just chat with Dave. But no, I forgot, it's not my friend Dave that's in my phone, it's the Dave that is the husband of one of my semi-estranged college friends. I heard him start to answer and I made like a seventh grade girl and hung up. That's right I did. Caller ID be damned, I still didn't want to have that awkward conversation.
And my (almost entirely decorative, as it turns out) appendix and I are home in time to meet Party Jen for soup at the Factory. I hope they have peach.
(P.S. No peach, but they had mango. Yum.)