People have told me that if I felt well enough to shave my legs before going to the hospital I could not have possibly been in that much pain. Those people, those unable to define the word "hirsute", they would be mistaken. I shaved my legs before I went to the hospital seven years ago when I was admitted for diverticulitis and I shaved my legs on Tuesday evening and again on Friday of this week in anticipation of another hospital stay.
I find that one advantage to severe abdominal pain is that it renders me completely unable to stand upright, bent at the waist as though searching for a contact lens and thus, in the perfect position to shave my legs. I mean, I'm down there anyways so why not make the best of it? When my husband walked in on my midnight shaving he knew I was really sick and asking "What's all this about?" was more of an awkward hello than a genuine inquiry. I mean it was obvious even before I sobbed to him that, "I think I need to go to the hospital" that something wasn't right. We've been married over 11 years, that I'd ever shaved before sex had to be a distant memory for him. He knew something was brewing and it was not in his favor.
I held out for three day and for three days I floated between between hope and dread; I really thought that this would all just pass but at the same time I was totally dreading the possibility of being admitted to the hospital. I did prepare for the worst. I took all of my books offline, I tried to show Michael how to complete a sales order just in case something slipped through the cracks and I told him which fellow bookseller he could call on for help.
In the end I did go to the ER. The CAT-scan revealed a rogue ovary and an angry uterus, both of which had joined forces to stage a tiny rebellion, taking up arms with cysts and fibroids; talk of ovarian torsion was bandied about. The doctor wasn't sure that this could cause severe nausea and vomiting but from what I've read it certainly can, especially torsion. I only stayed in the ER for four hours, the diverticulitis was ruled out as was appendicitis. These were my two top contenders in a little game I like to call Self Diagnosis Gets You Nowhere.
For years now I've been thinking that I should write down all of my book sale venues, my passwords, and outline how to fill sales orders and update inventory. I should at least have the phone numbers available so service could be stopped immediately. Oh, jeez. Just thinking of what I need to do or should do is starting to give me a headache.
