All I get for Christmas is Knocked Up!

This is my christmas shirt I'll be sporting for the family. I found it strangely fitting considering. I just hope everyone else appreciates the joke.

So this weekend I ended up in the ER. Myself, Jimbo and the kids went to cut a tree, got home and started decorating. All was great with the world, then when I was doing the tinsel I got this sharp pain in my abdomen. Thinking it was just upset tummy I tried to sit and wound up with my ass hugging carpet begging Jimbo to call 9-11. I didn't know what the hell was going on, I just knew it was bad. We called his Mom to watch the kids while he took me in and although it was only a matter of minutes until she arrived it felt like hours. I began to vomit and the pressure continued to worsen. I thought I was dying and began to pray to god for some intervention.

Let me just say...I hate the fracking ER. I get there and cannot walk and have to be wheeled in by a chair. Meanwhile the receptionist (completely not caring about my pain obviously) begins making me fill out all this paperwork and answering all these questions (and to be honest, I was so out of it I can't recall what I said). Then I am rolled to the side to wait...and wait. After Jimbo kept pushing to get me back to see someone, I was called back to Triage and they asked me my pain from a scale of 1-10. Considering I have a pretty good tolerance for pain, I said a 5. I did this because the pain had lessened a small amount but as I told them, it came in waves lasting 10-15 minutes and that 5 was the lowest end of that scale. Again I'm made to wait. After about 20 minutes of me hunched over, pulling at my hair, my dear husband starting giving them hell and got me back.

I immediately asked for something for the pain and was told "you have to wait to see a Doctor". Fine I think I've come this far. Then while I feel like I'm going to die, the nurse tries to start an IV and get some blood samples. Too bad nursezilla and had to poke me 5 times to get the IV going. At this point I didn't care, I just wanted to see the Doctor.

They start fluids and the doctor finally comes in. He does some feeling around and tells me he thinks "I have gallstones". Fantastic. He then tells me I'll finally get something for the pain. So when my nurse arrives she informs me it will be a shot in the hip. So I roll over and bare all. She must have drew a dart board on my ass since she stabbed me with the damned needle. I've had tons of hip shots and they never bothered me, until this bitch comes around. Finally 15 minutes later, all is well and the pain is there but tolerable.

I then have a visitor from the lab. It appears nursezilla can't take blood properly either and they have to redo it, so another stick (this nurse was a RN thank god and got it first shot) and I finally can sit back. I get an ultrasound and afterward my Doc comes in and tells me I am the unfortunate carrier of "alot" of gallstones and I'll need surgery. He said that the pain can be horrific and that he was sorry it took so long to get relief. I was also told I have a UTI and anemia to boot. Wonderful.

So now, until the first trimester is over, I have to watch everything I eat. No more good stuff. No whole milk, butter, meat. You know, anything worth eating. Instead I have to sustain myself on lettuce like a rabbit. Oh well, if it means no more of that pain I'm game. I'm not going through that shit again, no thank you.

This weekend our christmas get together will be a sad one for me. I can't partake in all the italian goodness my husbands family bestows. No greasy spaghetti or bread, or meatballs or anything.

So the shirt fits I think. Merry Fracking Christmas!!