And So It Begins

It’s a strange thing, the human body. When things aren’t working the way they’re supposed to and you don’t know why, you’re left in kind of a quandary. What are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to think? And can I just carry on…please?

I got a call from my doctor not too long after I’d been home. He wanted me to meet him at the hospital. He said my white blood cell count was pretty high and he wanted to run some more tests. This, of course, meant nothing to me and I called my really good friend (who just happened to be a nurse) to come over and watch my kids. My husband would meet me at the hospital. 

My friend was a true “go to friend” in every sense. Two of our kids were pretty much the same age and I would call her whenever I had a medical question. As a matter of fact I had called her to tell her about the pain earlier in the day and she very calmly convinced me to go to the doc.

So she came over and I was joking with her as I left. Her grandmother had recently died and as I was running out the door I thought it would be funny to make the following comment:

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have another funeral to go to. Ha!”

She understood my sick sense of humor and smiled.

After I closed the door I know I thought, “did I just say that?” Ha!

[Pause: You might be wondering why I didn’t just Google “white blood count” because that’s what most people would do today. I must remind you that it was 1985 and there was no Internet. I had to trust and rely on word of mouth.]

At The Hospital

So, the good news was I wasn't pregnant. No ectopic pregnancy. Nope.

The bad news was they didn't know what was wrong so they had to try and figure out what was causing the pain deep inside my abdomen. I needed to have an ultrasound and in order to have said ultrasound I had to drink more liquid without peeing than I think I had ever had any time before. Ever in my life. Major discomfort.

When my husband and I find ourselves in a situation that is kind of boring, in a public place, nothing to do really, we usually end up people watching which usually ends up a laughing matter. Which, if you know me, I love to do. Which is a good thing given these circumstances. Kind of. Except there was this matter of having an overflowing, bursting bladder. So given said circumstances there were many expletives that slipped out which was not unusual for me. I couldn't laugh.

I remember it took forever until I had the actual ultrasound and I was certain they would be able to tell me what the problem was so I was waiting for the "aha moment" from either the technician or the doctors (my doctor's partner was there now too). Puzzled faces. Nothing happened. Nothing showed up. Must run more tests. Crap.

"Can you please come back to the hospital in the morning?"

Yup, cause I just wanted to go home to my babies. It was late and we were all tired. The pain in my abdomen had lessened so things were looking up. I felt better. And it was the weekend. Tomorrow was Saturday, my husband would be home. Only five days until Christmas, one of my favorite days of the year and time to get really excited.

WooHoo!