Honestly, what am I even doing writing this? Well, there are a few things I’d like to get off my chest before I go to rest and get better.
I’ve been suffering from an infection caused by an ovarian cyst. When the pain became unreasonable last night (and induced too much vomiting), I was off to the hospital, so very late it was early, to suffer through a barrage of tests.
While I got the answers I was in need of, and now have the prescriptions to make it better (and Muffin is off with relatives for a “visit” while Mummy gets well), I am not a good patient, and I’d much rather not have to go through something like this very often.
Well, I am a good patient, in that I tough it out — and believe me, for this autist, it is saying something. IVs are the worst. I hate all the stimulation from the beeping machines and the bright lights, and oh, the blood, oh, the blood tests.
Furry boy above will definitely be keeping me company in my recovery. I missed him terribly while I sat in the ER for 8 hours.
At least there were reruns of Doctor Who (early Matt Smith) on the very limited cable channels. And I forgot my insurance card, but I brought my trusty latest Discworld re-read. (And one of the techs even saw my copy of The Fifth Elephant, and said, “Oh, I love that series!” Total geek moment. Vulcan salute.)
Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary, and if I do anything special, it will be eating something more exciting than chicken soup and applesauce.
I feel like Al Pacino in the almost-end of Heat: “I’m gonna go home, shower, and sleep — for a month.”
I’ll be back in touch when I can, moths.