Day 8

Sober for 8 days. Fuck this. I hate it.

Spent last week in the hospital. I had some weird stomach pains on Monday. Thought I ate something weird at the Japanese steak house we went to for my father-in-law’s birthday. Older son had a stomach ache and we both had shrimp so obviously that’s what it was.

Tuesday I wake up and the stomach ache is gone but I have some weird ass pain in my side and wrapping around my back. Probably gas.

I function through the day but by 9:00pm it’s getting bad. Like hard to take a breath-bad. I call the husband, who works midnights and an hour away at this point.

“Do you have to go to the hospital?” he asks, after telling me to calm down five times.

Cause that helps.

Yeah, I had to go. It WAS that bad. Even though having two children, I’ve never actually been in labor, but I think this has to be what it actually feels like. By the way, in case you’re wondering, son #1 was emergency cesarean section a month early. #2 was scheduled a year later. No one tells you that you shouldn’t get pregnant right after a c-section…or that you CAN get pregnant while breastfeeding, and that the mini-pill is only like 80% effective (not great odds for birth control). Regardless, the pains I was feeling were enough for me to head to the ER last Tuesday.

Who would’ve thought there would be a 5 hour wait on a Tuesday night? Not me. Didn’t start great. I walk in, no shower, no bra, and one of my clients is at the desk checking people in.

“Oh hey, Sandy”

“What are you doing here? You always have the weirdest stuff”

……..pretty sure that’s not in the bedside handbook

“Yeah I’m having some weird pain in my side”

“Ok come on back”

At this point I’m super embarrassed. I don’t want the same person that I formulate their hair color and hair appointments asking when my last period was and how many times I pooped today. But I know she has my best interest at heart. She tells me, after all this bullshit in the triage, “there’s like a 4 hour wait, but I’ll try to do what I can.”

After they take my blood-wait, TRY to take my blood (I now look like a junkie with track marks cause they blew all my veins) I head back to the waiting room.

I wish I had a Xanax. Or a sleeping pill. My feet are twitching. I cant get comfortable in these damn chairs. I think around 5am, right as I got comfortable, some jerk came and told me he was bringing me to a room. What a turd. I JUST fell asleep and was comfy.

Anyone that’s been in the ER knows the drill. “Take off everything but your underwear, opening in back.” And the there’s this thin ass sheet to put over you. They act like it’s this lovely warm comforter. After I unrobe while keeping my socks on like a badass, I put the super generous sheet on and throw my sweatshirt over it like an extra blanket. I doze off for maybe 45 min max.

*knock-knock*

“Come in?”

The Dr pronounces my name wrong. As they always do. They all do. I don’t even bother trying to correct him. I don’t care at this point.

“You’re showing all signs of pancreatitis. Your liver numbers are really bad. Do you drink?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

And here we go.

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