Waiting sucks. I'm waiting to hear back from the specialist, and in the mean time, I am super saturated with pain killers. Last night, I decided that I was all better - that the storm had passed, the cyst has magically healed itself, and that I was going to go back to life as usual. I did not take my pain medicine at the six hour mark. I told Ian that I was healed. He wasn't convinced. I also did not take my pain medicine at the seven or eight hour mark and took this as evidence that my previous hypothesis was correct. Then, somewhere between hour eight and nine, my side started throbbing and my insides started mumbling something about a revolt. The strange rumblings started to feel an awful lot like nausea and I suddenly had a flash back to the last 5 ER visits.
I promptly took my pain killers, and anti-nausea meds, and prescription strength Prilosec, and lay down to pray that God would be merciful on a poor fool. When Ian came to check on me an hour later, I told him that maybe I was not as miraculously healed as I had previously assumed. He just patted me on the head, tucked me in, and slipped out as I went night night.
I think it's gonna be another long day. Wish me luck.
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