Two weeks ago I decided that I was dying. Knees and Spaghetti style with some mild vomiting. It was my right side that was in excruciating pain.
If you’ve been keeping up with my shit then you would be like
Oh man Kels isnt it usually your left side, and I would say yes yes it is but not this day.
On God I thought I had appendicitis. Even FaceTimed or whatever Google’s shit is for the time where I can see your face. And pointed to where it hurt like he is a doctor.
I finished whatever I was doing (I was going to say doing laundry but I don’t do that, and I was going to say cooking but I definitely don’t do that either, but I was doing something) so I waited a minute to call my sister in law to come snag me to drop me off at the hospital.
They get me checked in pretty quick. People have been avoiding the hospital like the plague lately.....
Get it.
Well I hobble in there and I end up knowing the scribe. Cute little thing.
We end up loading me up on some pain medication to make sure I start to feel some kind of relief because by this point I’m basically dry heaving.
Well CT scan shows I had a cyst rupture. COOL. I tried to explain that me having cyst is so 2013 and that I am not looking for a B2B.
They can’t do anything for ruptured cysts due to it happening already. So they load you up on hydros, and morphine and you just head on out.
It’s wild to me how they do that.
They don’t tell you its going to hurt for days. But what is pain at this point anyways. Constantly feels like a figment of my imagination. It’s all in your head.
I swear there is enough shit in my head.
I have been trying to maintain that its not a big deal at this point. Chronic pain feels so played out. Can a girl get some Chronic Pleasure, or what ever that type of weed is that I smoke.
Honestly when I talk or preach or feel anything about it, it feels like a broken record.
I am supposed to make an appointment to see the ultrasound specialist to check out the ovaries to make sure they are chilling where they are supposed to be and they are not covered in cysts, which hoping they aren’t. Don’t tell my mom or my roommate that I haven’t made the appointment yet. What are they going tell me. Let’s getttem gone (I live in Oklahoma thats how everyone talks..I’m kidding...I’m not)
Sounds made up... just like when my roommate told me that your periods don’t control if you like someone or not.... SOUNDS ::claps::MADE::claps:: UP.
Anyways, I am putting it off because I’m in the middle of opening up a restaurant and sound like something I don’t have time or effort for.
I’ll just do what I’m good at which is burn it off a both ends and become a hermit psychopath.
And I know I’ll be the best kind.
