Save My Ladyparts

February is such a bullshit month. Seriously, it's the worst month of the year. Here is the story of how this February kicked off:

[If you have a low tolerance for medical jargon or surgical procedures, just forget about it.]

February 1st, 2012 - Lying in bed naked watching Jackass 3 on Netflix at 11 AM, minding my own business. Had a small handful of white cheddar popcorn for breakfast (I'm poor, I'm in college, bite me). Without warning, I experienced an extreme stabbing pain in my right lower abdomen. First thought: Perhaps I'm ovulating and experiencing mittelschmertz (German for "middle pain," the slight pain felt during ovulation). Second thought: This pain isn't going away. In fact, it's gotten way worse rapidly. Oh Christ, not a fan. This was the worst pain I'd ever experienced in my entire life, and I've been thrown from a horse into a fence and totaled a car. I quickly Google "appendicitis" and skim the symptoms. Some of them match the pain I am experiencing. I start screaming in my apartment and my roommate, FilmChick, knocks on my door. "M, are you OK?"

"NO I AM NOT OK I NEED TO GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW OWOWOWOWOWOOWOWOWOW!!!!!!!!!!"

"OK, I can take you. Let me get my coat and I'll wait for you in the common area."

I pry myself from bed, barely able to stand up straight. I honestly have no idea how I managed to put on a bra but I know I just grabbed whatever clothes I could (as always, no sweatpants. Even in agony, I have dignity) and my shirt was dirty. Fuck it, M. Just walk outside and get your ass to the hospital. Walking hunched over, I climb into her truck and FilmChick graciously drives me to the ER.

We walk in, or rather she walks in and I waddle in hunched over clutching my belly, and I quickly sit down, while FilmChick goes to the window and grabs a clipboard. She writes my dictated medical history, which is seriously uneventful. Then, we wait...and wait...and wait. Keep in mind that because I am now around old people, I have stopped screaming and have resorted to pathetic puppy moaning and pleadingly looking to the receptionist. After an hour, FilmChick returns to the window: "Please, she's seriously in pain. She thinks it might be appendicitis." Fifteen minutes pass by and they call me. Sweet relief!

HelloKittyScrubs: "Miss M, we're going to check your vitals now."

Me: "You're joking, right?"

HKS: "Nope. Put on the cuff."

I couldn't believe it. I tell her all of my symptoms, beg for relief, and even tell her that I need to be seen immediately. "Look, I don't go to the doctor at all, nor do I have any chronic illnesses. When I'm in pain, I'm not fucking around. Please just give me something to distract me from this stabbing pain."

HKS: "I understand, Miss, but we don't have anymore beds back there. We are going to try and move someone quickly for you."

She then gives me a wheelchair, makes me move into it, then wheels me back out. FilmChick looks at her incredulously: "What the hell?"

Me: "They don't have any beds for me. I have to wait more. You can go back home, if you need to."

FilmChick: "Are you absolutely sure?"

I insisted and so she left. I texted a few people where I was, including Flyboy, and of course they were all busy. I sat alone in the waiting room for another half hour when I was finally wheeled into a room. MaleNurse comes in and begins to deliver more crap news: "We are going to need blood and urine samples."

Me: "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I feel like I've been stabbed and you have to actually stab me with my least favorite thing on the planet?"

MaleNurse: "Well, I can give you an unsterilized needle."

Me: "Well-played. If I'm going to piss, I need some water."

He proceeds to draw my blood (I'm lying down in my uncomfortable hospital bed at this point, preventing my normal reaction of passing out), then leaves with the vials. "The cup is on the table. Go when you can. After that, strip down and put on the hospital gown." After fifteen minutes, I struggle to pry myself from the bed and waddle over to the little bathroom and give the lab people a sample.

By this time, a few friends were able to get to the hospital after I had told them what was up. I was finally wearing a super sexy powder blue flimsy thing with maroon moons and stars plastered all over it. They came to visit me but only after I heard the best news: "You're going to have a CAT scan so drink this barium."

I've heard that barium tastes like dogshit and was not excited. MaleNurse: "Oh no, it's OK. We mix it with Sprite and cranberry juice."

Me: (takes a sip) "Vodka-cran! Decent!"

The CAT scan was boring but the results were not. MaleNurse: "Well, you don't have appendicitis. However, it appears you've got a large cyst on your ovary. We've got the OB/GYN on call and she is scheduling you for an ultrasound."

Me: "Can I please have some morphine?"

MaleNurse: "Oh yes."

Thank Christ.

Morphine is a hell of a drug and as soon as it was pumped into my veins, the stabbing subsided to a low, dull ache. I started mumbling silly things about stupid shit, then I get wheeled into the ultrasound room. The technician asks me if I have any questions about transvaginal ultrasounds.

Me: "Yeah. Can you microwave that lube shit? I don't need it ice cold."

She sticks the wand in and turns on the machine. Immediately on the screen, there is a massive black object. Her eyes widen a bit.

Me: "Fuck, that's big."

It ended up being about ten centimeters in length. That's the size of a Blackberry. At about 9 PM, my mother shows up looking harried. Dr. Abrahms comes in my new room and tells me that I still can't eat anything and that I've been scheduled for emergency laprascopy the next morning. "Save my ladyparts," was my only reply to her.

They were able to save my ovary, thank God.

~M