Last night I had to go to the emergency room.
Don’t believe me?
Check out my cool new paper bracelet.
How’s that for official? I think I’m going to wear it to school tomorrow and tell my kids they better be nice to me or I’ll end up back in the hospital and they’ll be stuck with a mean substitute.
I had to go to the ER because for the past two days I have had these sharp, shooting pains in my stomach. They were getting so bad that when they would start (they came and went), I would become short of breath and if I was standing, I’d get really lightheaded. Weird, huh?
So, I called my doctor who said that I needed to head to the hospital. Apparently sharp, shooting pains in pregnant bellies is nothing to mess around with. My good friend Sarah came to stay with Bean and then Chris and I headed up to the emergency room after work.
Any pregnant woman will tell you that a certain amount of pain in your abdomen is normal when you’re pregnant. Your insides are moving and your outsides are stretching and that’s bound to be painful at times. I know exactly what that pain feels like and I’ve been having it lately, but this was different. Turns out though that on your second time at this pregnant rodeo, that pain is worst if you’ve had a prior c-section because now it’s not just your muscles and organs that are moving around. Now, that scar tissue from your first c-section is actually tearing and shifting – hence that sharp, shooting pain that feels like someone is ripping me apart inside. They are!
The human body is a mysterious, masochistic thing.
But all that medical mumbo jumbo is not what this post is all about. What this post is all about is that, apparently, I need a muzzle because I have no filter on my thoughts whatsoever.
Tonight when the doctor came in to do his exam, there were about six people in the room with us. Nurses, students, attending doctors, residents – it was a packed house. Standing room only. Literally.
So, as they are all filling in the tiny little exam room (where, I should point out, I am sitting spread eagle in the middle of), one of the nurses says, “It’s a party in here!”
And I, having ZERO filter in my brain, automatically spit out, “It’s not a party till somebody spreads their legs!”
I said that.
In a GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM.
I thought Chris was going to either a) crawl under the exam table in embarrassment or b) leave me.
The doctors, however, died laughing. Thank goodness. Cause the only thing worse than what I said would be saying it and then having to sit in an awkward silence. But they were laughing pretty good. It was just me, laying on that table, dying a slow death of embarrassment and silently cursing my blog for giving me the stupid idea that people actually want to hear these thoughts in my head.
NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR THOSE THOUGHTS, KATIE! NOBODY!
So, that was my night last night. Stomach pains, ER visit, highly inappropriate comment, Taco Bell, bedtime.
I think my work here is done.