Good news: I don't have diverticulitis.
Bad news: They don't know what is causing the extreme pain on my lower left side. My original mail-in doctor thought (without testing) it was my left ovary. So he took it out. It wasn't my ovary, it was diverticulitis. Kaiser is full of artarted wannabe doctors.
Good news: The doctor listened to me for about an hour and gave me some great advice. He scheduled a blood test right away, a CT-scan for later on in the day, scheduled a colonoscopy and endoscopy, and gave me a nice prescription for my ulcer.
Bad news: They are going to stick a camera/tubey thing up my ass and down my throat. Awesome.
Good news: I am going to get pain medication.
Bad news: I am going to be probed in the anus.
Good news: I didn't puke up the blueberry flavored barium crap before they gave me my CT-scan.
Bad news: I made a smallish scene when I burped super loud in the waiting room. It was full of old people that looked at me like "Those stupid young people and their horrible manners". Fuck you, you're going to die soon, you old raisin faced bitches.
Good news: I didn't pee my pants when they put the contrast in my IV.
Bad news: I asked the nurse to check if I peed my pants since my arms had to remain over my head so the IV would flow correctly.
**NOTE: In my defense, when she put the contrast in my IV, it makes you feel VERY warm inside. It honestly feels very warm in the crotch and truly feels like you have peed your pants. The technician said many people feel that way.
Good news: I get to rest until the procedure.
Bad news: It is nice outside today and I would love to take the kids out to play. It finally stopped raining here in Seattle, and I can't be up too long without the pain becoming too overwhelming.
In other news, last night around 11:00 when I turned off the t.v., my husband woke up long enough to mumble "mayonnaise" and then went back to sleep. He has done this before with words like "butter" and "bacon". He never remembers it in the morning, but it sure is funny when it happens. He also has dreams about spiders that have him cowering in the bottom half of the bed. Apparently, if ever a large spider attacks us in bed, he is going to offer me up first while he eats mayonnaise, bacon, and butter. I sure love that man.
He has been very helpful (for the most part) while I have been out of commission yet again. I feel bad that every year, I seem to have some issue that has me flat on my back (not in a good enjoyable way) for a few weeks. But I guess he knew what he was getting into. I mean, when we were just dating, I was in the hospital for over a week getting my gall bladder removed. He was by my side every day, just being there for the few moments I was alert enough to notice he was there. I know I am lucky to have him. He is a great husband, and a wonderful man. He is also the best friend a person could have. He cares. He truly does. I know that even if things hadn't worked out between us, we would still remain friends. He is a wonderful father to our children. I am lucky enough to still be deeply in love with the person I married. I respect him and value his opinion.
God, I'm going to make myself vomit. Sorry, maybe it's the boredom setting in or something. But it's all true. Don't stop reading me please. I promise to keep the lovey dovey gross crap out of it from now on. Maybe. At least I'll tone it down a bit.
Now get the fuck off the computer and go outside to enjoy the fresh air. Drink a shot of anything for me because I am cut off.