With apologies to Paul Harvey

Here’s the rest of the story of that dirty whore, my abdomen:

Wednesday afternoon, I started having some discomfort in the right side of my abdomen. I didn’t think much of it at first – perhaps I’d pulled a muscle somehow – because, well… aches and pains happen, right?

But I woke up yesterday morning, and the pain was still there. Just not in exactly the same place where it was: yesterday morning, it was a more generalized pain throughout the right side of my abdomen, with an occasional stabby pain in the spot where it had all started the night before.

By lunch time yesterday, it wasn’t discomfort any more: it was pain. With some vague nausea thrown in for good measure. And given that the last time I was wrong (I thought it wasn’t a big thing but it was), I ended up in the ICU overnight, in the hospital for five days, and out of work for a month (pneumonia kicked my ass in ’07), I figured it was better to err on the side of caution than on the side of dead.

This presented another challenge in this modern era of managed care: Other than my gynecologist, I don’t have a primary care physician. I don’t get sick often enough to merit that (she said, knocking on wood). And I was reasonably sure that this was not a girly problem. So I found a local doctor, who actually was able to see me yesterday, and had a 2:00 PM appointment, where I had the joy of peeing in a cup, the additional joy of having my belly pressed and poked and prodded, and the even greater joy of being bled having blood drawn.

Evidently, my urine had a high white cell count and a trace of blood (and it must’ve been just a trace, because it certainly wasn’t visible to the naked eye), so it appears I have a UTI. However, the UTI doesn’t explain the sharp, stabby pain in my abdomen. Which is how I ended up at the hospital for a CT scan.

After the Scan Which Showed Nothing, I spoke to the doctor, who suggested I fill my antibiotic prescription, and stay on nothing but clear fluids for two days, to give my gut a chance to “rest” in case something I’ve eaten is somehow pissing off my intestines. And exercise is out of the question for now, because I can’t move without wincing.

So I stopped at the grocery store on my way home, and picked up a variety of soups (chicken broth, tomato basil, and butternut squash). Yes, I’m aware they aren’t clear, but fuck it, Hot Mother can’t live on chicken broth alone. I also picked up a case of regular 7-Up, because if I can’t eat solid food, I’m at least going to have beverages that don’t have an aftertaste. Of course, I may regret this decision later, but for now, I don’t care.

And that’s the full scoop. I’m still alive, and apparently have nothing of interest going on in my belly. Except for pain, of course.

And for the record: this morning, I weighed in at 218.6. I know the official weigh-in is tomorrow, but I wanted credit for where I’ve gotten before this enforced fast starts.

Have a Fabulous Friday!

Where’s Miss Marple when I need her?

CT scan showed absolutely no reason for the sharp stabby pain in my midsection.

Am at pharmacy picking up antibiotics for the apparent UTI. Am supposed to be on clear fluids only for two days.

Yecch.

And the gods laughed

Bad news: am at hospital for CT scan. May have appendicitis. Good news: weighed in at doc’s office fully clothed at 220 even.

I’ll take the good news wherever I can.

Wow. Just… wow.

First: life has been chaotic lately. It’s not you, it’s me. I miss you guys like crazy, and don’t mean to ignore you. Between personal issues (pre-teens? are NOT fun!) and my 9-to-5 (which, 50 hours a week really should be enough frickin’ time, and it would be if I weren’t the only person trying to do the work that used to be done by six people), there’s been no time for me.

And yes, that means what you know damn well it means: I haven’t been eating well, and I haven’t been exercising regularly, and yes – I gained a pound. Of course, I still haven’t gotten my period (damn hormones!), so who knows if it’s actually fat or water. No matter, I haven’t done a great job taking care of myself.

But that’s not why I’m here. I had to wade into the waters of the Kevin Smith vs. Southwest debate.

I’ve flown Southwest almost exclusively for years now, and I’ve never had a problem. No, I’ve never had to purchase a second seat, so that’s a humiliation I haven’t experienced. And I’ve never had strangers make comments about the mass of my ass to my face, or within earshot. My weight has never gotten in the way of my love life, or my career. It hasn’t stopped me from doing anything I want to do, save being more active.  So I’ve been pretty lucky.

And in theory, I have no problem with Southwest’s policy: if you can’t fit into a single seat, you have to buy two. And I’m fine with Southwest using the armrest as the definitive measure: if you can put the armrests down, you’re cool.

So it seems to me that pulling someone off a plane, after he’d already been seated (with the armrests down and the seatbelt buckled) is just… random. Odd. And to say that it’s a safety issue? I call bullshit. Any person who can’t move quickly in the event of an emergency is just as much a safety consideration as a fat person who can’t move quickly. Are we going to start preventing the elderly from flying? How about people with broken legs? People in wheelchairs? Unaccompanied minors? Who gets to decide which passengers pose a possible safety issue?

If you go and read the comments on the Southwest blog, you’ll see a mixture of three sentiments:

• I’m fat, and Southwest sucks, and I’ll never fly Southwest again. (And there were a lot of people expressing this sentiment.)
• I’m not fat, but Southwest sucks and I’ll never fly Southwest again. (Quite a few more people saying this than I would’ve expected.)
• I’m not fat, and I appreciate the policy, because flying next to a really large person? Uncomfortable. (This? perfectly reasonable. Although to be fair, it’s uncomfortable to fly for nearly everyone. Even though I’m only 5’1″, there’s not enough leg room.)
• Fatties are gross/lazy/smelly, so thanks for not letting them fly next to me. (Far too many of these for my comfort.)

The vitriol that some of these folks direct toward fat people is nothing short of appalling. But here’s the thing that really gets me: many of these losers end their little “I’m normal sized and I think fat people are gross” diatribes with something like, “Go to the gym and lose some weight, fattie. It’s about your health.”  (And yes, if you insult me merely on the basis of how I look – if you assume that I smell because I’m fat, or you assume that I’m lazy because I’m fat, or you assume that I’m unintelligent because I’m fat, then you are in fact a loser.)

Really? It’s about my health, is it, douchebag? So, when I see you talking on the cell phone, or brushing your hair, or putting on mascara while you’re driving, you won’t mind if I call the cops and report you, right? Because that’s about your health. And if I see you smoking, I can loudly mock you about how it’s your choice to smoke, and that you smell, and how you clearly have no self-control, right? Because that’s about your health. And when I see you feeding your kid junk food, I can call Child Protective Services – because it’s about your kid’s health. Right?

It saddens me that Southwest did a stupid thing, and then compounded it with an “apology” that’s nothing more than a backhanded insult. It saddens me that they have a policy to deal with folks who truly can’t fit into a single seat, but don’t follow it consistently. It saddens me on behalf of any non-celebrity who might experience this incredible humiliation and not be able to fight back with the full weight (pun intended) of thousands of internet followers to back them up.

But mostly, it saddens me that there are so many people who take pleasure in mocking others; that there are so many people who think they are better than we are, just because they’re thin; that there are so many people whose mothers would be ashamed of them for how they regard other human beings.

Thanks, Southwest, for the reminder that so many of us are nothing more than overgrown bullies, mocking the nerdy kids. And thanks for encouraging them.

Quickie

Our internet access crashed and burned at 7:15 this morning. Aside to Comcast: it’s not “routine” maintenance if you don’t bother to tell us about it in advance. Douchebags.

Once we were finally back up and running (five hours later), I had much work to catch up on for my paying gig. So, in honor of yet another snow day (because we got another dusting last night), I leave you with this haiku:

Work, interrupted
Why must Sonny talk so much?
Please, God – no more snow.