Today I am going for two different ultrasound tests. Neither of which are for pregnancy, let me just clear that up right now. Even though both doctors figured that was the culprit for my pain as of late, 6 vials of blood and two wonderfully preggo-free urine tests later, they finally believe me. So after a seven hour stint in the emergency room, my “urgent” ultrasound that was scheduled for Oct 27 was bumped up to today.
I’m not 100% sure whats wrong with the ol insides as of late. After some (completely unrecommended) self diagnosis a la the internet, I am pretty sure I have/had an ovarian cyst. I did not mention this when I saw the doctor last because I didn’t want him thinking I had gone all Online-Doctor and was fabricating symptoms so that he’ll push for more tests. I let him come to the “hmmmmm….I think we need to look at your ovaries” conclusion on his own. Which he did. And he marked it urgent. And a month and a bit later is what the medical system considered urgent. Which, I totally get, is a shit ton better than a lot of other places. So I’m not really complaining. Not really.
On Sunday, the pain reached a level like I had never experienced before. I woke up and tried a few of my standard cramp-relieving tricks and nothing worked. I got up, determined to make a hot water bottle and fall asleep on the couch because the bed clearly was not cutting it. At the top of the stairs I paused. Tingling from head to toe, muttering to myself about how something is wrong, focusing on not taking a tumble down these two flights in front of me. Gripping both stair rails like my life depended on it (which it kind of did, really) I made it down, and then some. I can just imagine what I looked like, hunched over in pain, stepping on the hardwoods like there were still stairs to navigate. Good grief. Still tingly and feeling increasingly shaky, I had the wherewithall to realize that working with boiling hot water and a bottle with a small nozzle was probably NOT an activity I should attempt at the present time so I did an about face and directed my sweaty miserable body towards the couch. With what would have been one step left to take to plant my backside on the soft, welcoming embrace of the couch, I took a header. Fainted. Passed my ass right out. All I remember is hitting the edge of the end table (with a bruise to prove it) and hearing the table crash into the wall. The next thing I remember is waking up, turning my head to the side, focusing my eyes and realizing two things: I was looking at the woodgrain on the side of the end table and I never quite made it to the soft, welcoming embrace of the couch as intended.
I pulled myself onto the couch, tucked the blankies up around me and proceeded to sweat like I had just run my fastest 5k ever. With the pain pulsing down into my legs now I knew I needed that hot water bottle so I began to feebily call for Pat. And I called. And I called. And I don’t know if hes just one hell of a deep sleeper or if I was just calling out wimpily but I decided hollaring would get me farther so I hollared for him and out he shot. Hot water bottle getting prepped, he asked what I needed. And just like that, the only thing that was important in my world at that very second? A garbage can. For the puke. Now I am a good puke-controller. I have made it through a stomach flu without upchucking simply by controlling my breathing and swallowing and doing whatever it took to NOT puke. But this? It was coming up, whether I liked it or not. And I didn’t. Not one bit.
After the demons had left my body and the hot water bottle was permanently embedded on my lower stomach, I was able to remember what it was like to be pain free. We got someone to watch McK and headed out and after waiting in the waiting room, waiting in the hospital room, giving more blood, giving more urine samples, telling them one more time what has been going on, telling them one more time what happened that morning, and having my girly bits poked and prodded (not as gently as my doctor does it let me tell you), he was as stumped as everyone else and though maybe it was kidney stones. Fine, whatever, maybe it is, I’ll take kidney stones if someone can please hurry the hell up and confirm something one way or the other. And then this wonderful, although decidedly rougher, doctor said, “Your doctor marked your ultrasound as urgent and got you Oct 27 but I think its more urgent than that. Hows this week work?”
And so today, after lunch, I will empty my bladder at 1:00 and then proceed to drink water all the way to the hospital so that I am full but not uncomfortably so (does anyone know how much that would be, exactly? Not clear on the actual volume…) and will get a pile of goop slopped on my belly and they’ll magically be able to see my insides, which is really quite an amazing feat of medical science, and hopefully, when all is said and done, I will NOT be met with a “Well, we can’t really see anything abnormal….”.
THAT? That would do my head in.
I don’t think I’m crazy. I don’t make stuff up. And I tolerate pain extremely well and RARELY complain about it. And theres something going on. So to have them potentially say there isn’t, well, I honestly don’t know if I would believe them. And THAT would suck. But I will think positive because finding nothing, while it doesn’t excuse the pain, would mean there is nothing wrong. And thats a good thing. As long as they’re sure. Which they would be. Because they’re doctors. Right? Ugh.