Sunday, October 23

Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

Please excuse this title, I couldn't resist.

Last time, I said my next post would be less gross than the previous tale of Bailey's vomit.

Turns out, I was just kidding!

I debated whether or not I should share this here, but since probably 90% of the people who read my blog already know all about it, why not indulge in a little more overshare for the lucky oblivious few? Plus I need to give a good excuse for my blogging absence, so here it is: I spent Wednesday and Thursday night in the hospital thanks to -- wait for it -- a ruptured ovarian cyst.



I've been very, very lucky in my first 24 years. Never had a serious accident or medical emergency. Never spent the night at the hospital. My visits to the ER up to this point include slicing my cheek on gravel while bike riding at age 7 and breaking my foot at a party in college (Mom, am I missing anything?)

But about ten minutes after I arrived at work on Wednesday morning, I was hit with such severe abdominal pain that I went into the handicapped stall in the bathroom and laid on the floor. Of a public bathroom. Dude.

I tried to tough it out in the office, but by noon it was too much and I had to head home. Thanks to copious amounts of construction around Pittsburgh, my usual 10 minutes drive home took approximately half an hour, and I was basically hunched over the entire time and giving people the stink eye if they dared to impede my progress. Finally, I pulled up in front of our house ... only to be promptly greeted by a big black lab trotting merrily on the sidewalk. Without a leash, or collar, or owner. A woman down the street asked if he was my dog -- Nope -- but she was waiting to catch the bus and I couldn't just leave him there to wander the streets and face dangers unknown. So I pretended to have a treat and hobbled up the steps while he ran gleefully ahead, and then I barricaded him on our porch with a few chairs and a fresh bowl of water.

I really don't know how I end up in these situations, but how could I leave this face?

I called Animal Control despite some reservations, because the fact of the matter was I couldn't exactly walk around our neighborhood looking for his owner, all things considered. I was in a lot of pain, and just wanted to lay down. Bailey was not happy that I was spending so much of my time with this other man.

Finally, the Animal Control van showed up. At that same moment, a woman walking down the street spotted my furry friend and shrieked -- owner and dog were reunited, the Animal Control guys were happy they didn't have to haul a pet away, and I could finally go curl up in bed. The stars had sort of aligned.

An hour or so later, I decided I had to see a doctor. I was starting to sweat and shake, and nothing was making me feel any better. So I drove up to a MedExpress, where they promptly told me I had to go to the ER. They suspected appendicitis, but couldn't confirm anything without a CT scan or ultrasound. That was when I started to get scared.

I called Kyle and went to pick him up at work, and we headed over to Shadyside hospital (site of my broken foot treatment, and -- UPMC props alert -- a really nice facility). I'll spare you all the details of the triage and wait. I met a nice resident and a few nurses, they started me on pain meds and a battery of tests, and they eventually diagnosed a ruptured cyst that was causing internal bleeding.

Here I am at this point, with gratuitous scary filtering. Look who started her Halloween antics early!

In an attempt to cut this long story somewhat short, they decided to hold off on surgery and see if my body could start to reabsorb its own blood overnight? Ick, I guess it can do that. I don't know, I am terrified by the idea of surgery but at that point I sort of wanted it, just to do something about the pain. It was the sort of sensation that made breathing difficult and sleep impossible until they put me on a morphine drip.

The days in the hospital were mostly boring, and I slept a lot. Of course, that was to make up for the nights, when I was tested every two hours or so. I don't like needles, and I love sleep, so the nights were pretty miserable. All of the nurses and doctors were nice, but I now understand why people get super grouchy in the hospital. And it was wonderful to have Kyle and my parents come check on me, but I felt loopy and tired and uncomfortable, so I wasn't really up for long visits.

I am so happy to be home and getting back to normal (well, my version of it anyway). I was sent home with lots of pain medication and strict instructions to take it easy for 2-4 weeks. Let's plan on four, mmmkay?

I'm hesitant to say "I promise" that the next post won't be gross, because that's what I said last time and, well, it didn't work out, so I don't want to tempt fate or anything. But you should know that I plan to post something nice and flowery and totally free of any bodily functions or medical information whatsoever. Both Bailey and I are back to being lovely -- HA! -- and Kyle is a paragon of health :)

Please come back?


  1. So sorry! That sounds terrible, but yet you describe it in such a funny way combined with the dog and the hospital pic! How did you take such a perfect pic of the lab in your state? Unlikely next post will be more gross. Will come back. : )

  2. Hahaha, I love that Erma Bombeck quote: "If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it" so that's what I tried to keep in mind when writing about this. That lab photo was actually snapped while I was hunched over on the floor of our entryway, but I'm glad my iPhone skills shone though :) I think I've run out of gross things to write about at this point!