That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 14 (Intense Stomach Pain)

Wednesday, July 11th, 2012
Krusty gripping his stomach, having fallen over by his podium

(Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week, my stomach pain was getting more intense.

I didn’t really know what to do. I’d already mentioned it in the hospital, and no one seemed to think anything of it. (Granted, it had gotten markedly worse since then.)

It always took weeks to get an appointment with my doctor. I didn’t want to go to an urgent care for something I’d already mentioned at a hospital. I just kept putting off the now somewhat blinding pain.

It got to the point where I could barely move. I thought, “Okay, I can’t function. I kind of think this is intense enough to go to the hospital.” (Tsk, tsk, tsk.)

I can’t remember if I took an ambulance or walked. I remember I debated it because I didn’t want to waste an ambulance that someone else might have needed. It was extremely hard to move and walk, but the hospital wasn’t all that far from me. So, I want to say that I walked (or maybe even took a cab). But I can’t remember…

Either way, I ended up in the ER. Again. It may not come across in this story, because I complain so much as I remember it all – but at the time, I was often (almost always) all smiles and laughs with the doctors and nurses.

We rocked out to “Thriller” together. We told jokes and learned about each other’s lives. If you forgot about all the bad stuff that was happening, in some ways it was fun, sometimes.

A friendly nurse, whom I’d seen during my other trips to the ER, was working the day I came in with my stomach pain. As I sat in the bed in my little bay, or whatever little curtained off areas are called in the ER, I cried softly. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t stop the tears. I made as little sound as possible, because I was in an ER. People with real problems were there. I didn’t want to be a wuss who couldn’t deal with her poor wittle tummy.

The nurses face was shocked when he came in and saw that I was crying. He was so sweet. He said he was very surprised to see me like that. Usually I’d be sitting in bed working, greeting anyone who came in with a smile. He assured me they’d figure out what was wrong.

For those of you who’ve been reading the blog lately, you may be thinking, “Aurora, I don’t see what the big deal is. It sounds like you cry all the time.” Okay, yes. I cry over things that matter – theater, improv, dreams, important stuff. (Well, and I cry over pants.)

I certainly did cry sometimes in the hospital, but I didn’t cry all that often in there. The first few visits were mainly filled with confusion, and trying to figure things out. I also kept thinking I’d be done at any moment. I didn’t realize a saga was unfolding. So, there wasn’t a lot to cry about in the beginning.

I bet we’re in for more crying later, though!

Back to the stomach pain – it turns out, I had an ulcer. My understanding is that one of the medicines I was on could’ve caused it.  (I’m sure stress probably helped.) I don’t remember how they treat ulcers. Whatever they did, eventually I got to go home.

Oh goodness. Slowly deteriorating. Slowly going crazier.

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

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