That was supposed to look like it was from the top of an old news bulletin, but it's on a blog so it doesn't.
Okay.
As we all know, when Laura's body falls apart, it does it completely. I didn't just have endometriosis, I had ADVANCED endometriosis and am now half an ovary short of a pair. I didn't just develop allergies...I DEVELOPED them, and asthma to boot.
Most of you know I've been throwing up and throwing up for...months. Rachael will know how long.
I went to the doctor, he said, "It's severe acid reflux!"
Nope.
Saturday night I was struck with a violent, traumatic attack which led me to spend my entire night throwing up. About every hour, I woke up and ran to the bathroom. It was...unpleasant. Sadly, it was followed up with a second bout on Monday night.
I had been to the doctor early Monday morning. He'd been concerned about gallbladder problems, along with dozens of other possibilities, so he'd scheduled me for an ultrasound on Wednesday morning.
I fasted (no sweat, since I kept throwing up anyway), I went, I had the ultrasound. All the while, the woman running the machine kept...sighing. And she kept making me roll over. And then more sighing.
I might not be an expert, but sighing usually means...something bad.
Well, the results took ages. I was told I'd have them Wednesday evening, Thursday morning, Thursday afternoon, Friday morning--but I finally had to harass the hospital to give the results over so I'd know what was going on.
Yep.
I have gallstones.
And something they described as "sludge" too, which sounds just...delightful.
Basically, what is happening, is that the sludge is keeping things from going where they ought to, until everything backs up and I have a vomit-fest.
My research over the past few days made me pretty confident it was gallstones, so I'm not in shock. Nor am I freaked out, scared, or in denial.
The specialist is on vacation (wouldn't that be nice). When he returns, he'll take a peek at the ultrasound results and decide my fate.
I'll give you more updates as I get them!
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Spider Story
Certain individuals involved in the Saturday night Skype conversation of the WGCC area already familiar with this story. But, it's funny. So I don't care.
Saturday, I was feeling gross. As I tried to avoid throwing up for the thousandth day in a row, I looked across my room and saw...IT.
A spider, easily the size of my hand, stared back at me. It twitched its slender little spider-legs.
Naturally, I did what any girl with a younger brother (or older, I suppose) would do.
"PAUL!" I called. He came. Paul does that.
"It's looking at me," I said. "It wants to eat my eyes right out of their sockets!" I then pointed at the floor by Paul's feet.
"What?"
"There!" I said. "By the door frame! Get your SHOES."
Paul got his shoes. He does that, too.
By this point, the spider was onto my plan. He skittered around the corner to hide behind my door. Then, Paul returned with The Shoe.
What followed was the most pathetic attempt at spider-killing I have ever seen. That spider totally saw him coming. It raced around the door and scuttled under my dresser. My oak dresser. The one that weighs 4000 pounds.
"Looks like you have a new friend," Paul said.
"This is your fault!" I insisted. "We have to get him. He's going to wait for me to sleep so that he can come and eat my face. He'll eat it right off!"
"The spider isn't going to eat your face, Laura," Paul sighed.
Clearly, he was wrong. He had not seen the venomous look on the spider's face. I had. Plus, his legs were, like, longer than my fingers! That spider was easily as big as my head!
"I know!" I announced, grabbing the shoe. Lying on my stomach, I could see the spider looking back at me from under the dresser. I shoved Paul's shoe under the dresser. It didn't so much fit.
I darted across the room, grabbed my longest knitting needles, and tried to use it to herd the spider out from under the dresser. I think I saw it roll its eyes. There was no other choice.
I single-handedly moved the giant dresser, while Paul, still attempting to explain to me that the spider was "hiding because it's afraid" and "unable to tell you have a face" and "not interested in eating human flesh," looked on.
The spider, now in the open, tried once more to flee. I smacked it repeatedly with THIS magazine, which I had purchased earlier in the week because I'd seen Easy A with Jennifer and think Emma Stone would make an awesome Clary, should Hollywood make Cassandra Clare's Mortal Instruments series into movies.
IT. WOULD. NOT. DIE.
Now trapped in a battle of wills, the spider and I wrestled for survival. Finally, I hurled Paul's Shoe onto the spider, grabbed him, and forced him to stomp the shoe until the spider had expired.
We were safe.
I would wake up with my nose, eyelids, cheekbones, lips, and chin all where they had been when I'd gone to sleep. Why wouldn't I wake up were a spider to start eating me? Venom, that's why. They can numb things. Ask Bilbo and the dwarves.
Paul disposed of Shelob. Then I started to wonder...
Had the spider really been afraid of me? Paul said it was. And it had been hiding. Maybe it had a spider family, and when it got home from work, it would put on a tiny waistcoat with eight arm holes and dozens of little buttons all down the front, with a smart little cap it wore on it's head. Or maybe it was a Mommy Spider, who had tea parties and wore an eight-armed dress with a little mob cap! Maybe it's thousands of little spider babies were all waiting quietly for Mommy to come home, and she NEVER WOULD.*
At that point, I began to cry.
And that is my Spider Story.
*It might bear mentioning that I spent the remainder of the night throwing up again and again and again, once every hour, as punishment from God for destroying Mommy Spider and leaving her children to starve.
Saturday, I was feeling gross. As I tried to avoid throwing up for the thousandth day in a row, I looked across my room and saw...IT.
A spider, easily the size of my hand, stared back at me. It twitched its slender little spider-legs.
Naturally, I did what any girl with a younger brother (or older, I suppose) would do.
"PAUL!" I called. He came. Paul does that.
"It's looking at me," I said. "It wants to eat my eyes right out of their sockets!" I then pointed at the floor by Paul's feet.
"What?"
"There!" I said. "By the door frame! Get your SHOES."
Paul got his shoes. He does that, too.
By this point, the spider was onto my plan. He skittered around the corner to hide behind my door. Then, Paul returned with The Shoe.
What followed was the most pathetic attempt at spider-killing I have ever seen. That spider totally saw him coming. It raced around the door and scuttled under my dresser. My oak dresser. The one that weighs 4000 pounds.
"Looks like you have a new friend," Paul said.
"This is your fault!" I insisted. "We have to get him. He's going to wait for me to sleep so that he can come and eat my face. He'll eat it right off!"
"The spider isn't going to eat your face, Laura," Paul sighed.
Clearly, he was wrong. He had not seen the venomous look on the spider's face. I had. Plus, his legs were, like, longer than my fingers! That spider was easily as big as my head!
"I know!" I announced, grabbing the shoe. Lying on my stomach, I could see the spider looking back at me from under the dresser. I shoved Paul's shoe under the dresser. It didn't so much fit.
I darted across the room, grabbed my longest knitting needles, and tried to use it to herd the spider out from under the dresser. I think I saw it roll its eyes. There was no other choice.
I single-handedly moved the giant dresser, while Paul, still attempting to explain to me that the spider was "hiding because it's afraid" and "unable to tell you have a face" and "not interested in eating human flesh," looked on.
The spider, now in the open, tried once more to flee. I smacked it repeatedly with THIS magazine, which I had purchased earlier in the week because I'd seen Easy A with Jennifer and think Emma Stone would make an awesome Clary, should Hollywood make Cassandra Clare's Mortal Instruments series into movies.
IT. WOULD. NOT. DIE.
Now trapped in a battle of wills, the spider and I wrestled for survival. Finally, I hurled Paul's Shoe onto the spider, grabbed him, and forced him to stomp the shoe until the spider had expired.
We were safe.
I would wake up with my nose, eyelids, cheekbones, lips, and chin all where they had been when I'd gone to sleep. Why wouldn't I wake up were a spider to start eating me? Venom, that's why. They can numb things. Ask Bilbo and the dwarves.
Paul disposed of Shelob. Then I started to wonder...
Had the spider really been afraid of me? Paul said it was. And it had been hiding. Maybe it had a spider family, and when it got home from work, it would put on a tiny waistcoat with eight arm holes and dozens of little buttons all down the front, with a smart little cap it wore on it's head. Or maybe it was a Mommy Spider, who had tea parties and wore an eight-armed dress with a little mob cap! Maybe it's thousands of little spider babies were all waiting quietly for Mommy to come home, and she NEVER WOULD.*
At that point, I began to cry.
And that is my Spider Story.
*It might bear mentioning that I spent the remainder of the night throwing up again and again and again, once every hour, as punishment from God for destroying Mommy Spider and leaving her children to starve.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
BEHOLD! A post I wrote and forgot to post until today!
For the past...month? I have been working tirelessly with Bailey (Remember Bailey? Find her HERE) to bring you something EPIC.
That is to say, we have started a book blog, The Magic Hoodie Literary Society. And I am quite fond of it.
GO AND SEE!
Needless to say, everything pretty about the book blog was Bailey's work. She made the blue pretty, she made the picture go where it was supposed to go and got us those nifty follow buttons for Twitter...she has skills. She even gave us little tabs so you can search for reviews by name AND find out more about us, though why you'd want to find out more about me, I'll never know.
Together, we lost valuable sleep to bring you our first joint book review, in which we discuss the merits of the book Zombies vs. Unicorns, edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier. In the final hours before launch, I had just finished watching Ghostbusters for the first time, and I pressed buttons and made Bailey unhappy.
I don't know what I did, but I'm sure it couldn't have been good...
I'll let you read that review while I go off and write another. Two more, since I just finished another book!
That is to say, we have started a book blog, The Magic Hoodie Literary Society. And I am quite fond of it.
GO AND SEE!
Needless to say, everything pretty about the book blog was Bailey's work. She made the blue pretty, she made the picture go where it was supposed to go and got us those nifty follow buttons for Twitter...she has skills. She even gave us little tabs so you can search for reviews by name AND find out more about us, though why you'd want to find out more about me, I'll never know.
Together, we lost valuable sleep to bring you our first joint book review, in which we discuss the merits of the book Zombies vs. Unicorns, edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier. In the final hours before launch, I had just finished watching Ghostbusters for the first time, and I pressed buttons and made Bailey unhappy.
I don't know what I did, but I'm sure it couldn't have been good...
I'll let you read that review while I go off and write another. Two more, since I just finished another book!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
A Shameless Plug
No, I'm not selling anything. So don't freak out. There aren't any sweepers, no shoe polish, and I certainly am not offering you magazine subscriptions or cheap prescription medications.
But my friend Bailey, who I met on Twitter when the stars aligned just right, allowing our paths to cross, has moved over here to Blogger! It was a peer-pressure WIN! Bailey and I are writing an As-Yet-Unnamed Book Blog together. I will keep you appraised to the book blog situation , so you can read books because We Told You To. Bailey is also the only reason I 1. Found a dress that fits me and 2. Found a necklace to wear with said dress. Also, she lives in Texas.
On her new blog, Bailey will tell us about her very exciting life, and she will tell us what to wear. Now, some of you might not think you'll need that kind of advice, but trust me, you do. Bailey has been dressing me for several weeks now and my life has been changed for the better. I mean, a dress that fits! You didn't see me brandish the dress at my computer monitor, but I DID.
You see, through the power of Twitter, Bailey (along with Hannah and other Twitter-folk) has gone with me to the mall on several occasions. Bailey works at American Eagle, so I naturally took full advantage of this by whining to her via Twitter about my needs for various articles of clothing. And through the power of Twitter, the crazy group of writers we have assembled now all have identical dresses. I bet the dot dress looks good on all the ladies of WGCC too.
And, Bailey, you should know: I bought a cardigan Saturday that is almost-identical to the cardigan you're wearing in your Tuesday video. I bought it to match the dot dress. The only difference? Mine has ruffles in the front. That's it. We really are doppelgangers...
But my friend Bailey, who I met on Twitter when the stars aligned just right, allowing our paths to cross, has moved over here to Blogger! It was a peer-pressure WIN! Bailey and I are writing an As-Yet-Unnamed Book Blog together. I will keep you appraised to the book blog situation , so you can read books because We Told You To. Bailey is also the only reason I 1. Found a dress that fits me and 2. Found a necklace to wear with said dress. Also, she lives in Texas.
On her new blog, Bailey will tell us about her very exciting life, and she will tell us what to wear. Now, some of you might not think you'll need that kind of advice, but trust me, you do. Bailey has been dressing me for several weeks now and my life has been changed for the better. I mean, a dress that fits! You didn't see me brandish the dress at my computer monitor, but I DID.
You see, through the power of Twitter, Bailey (along with Hannah and other Twitter-folk) has gone with me to the mall on several occasions. Bailey works at American Eagle, so I naturally took full advantage of this by whining to her via Twitter about my needs for various articles of clothing. And through the power of Twitter, the crazy group of writers we have assembled now all have identical dresses. I bet the dot dress looks good on all the ladies of WGCC too.
And, Bailey, you should know: I bought a cardigan Saturday that is almost-identical to the cardigan you're wearing in your Tuesday video. I bought it to match the dot dress. The only difference? Mine has ruffles in the front. That's it. We really are doppelgangers...
Because I was bored
When I am bored with my life, I have one solution that brings change to the doldrums, gives me a bounce in my step, and brightens my perspective.
I cut my hair.
It's way cheaper than therapy.
I cut my hair.
It's way cheaper than therapy.
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