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!