zen and the art of appendix maintenance

Remember before, how I said that I had so much to tell you, and there just weren't enough hours in the day to write about all of it? Remember that? And how I still haven't told you about ANY OF IT?

Yeah, blame it on my appendix.

It all started about mid-day Monday, a week ago today. Crazy stomach pain that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Except for maybe it was the pork I ate the night before, but I wasn't ralphing. Or maybe I gave myself a hernia moving an eight-foot couch into my apartment BY MYSELF. Oh wait, I never told you about that? Turns out, I am WOMAN, hear me EFFING roar. Long story. Involves paying a delivery guy $50 cash to jimmy rig the couch into his pick-up truck, because this is Memphis.

I digress.

The pain kept on a-chugging until Tuesday when it was so excruciating that I left work at half-day to go seek medical attention. Since all my insurance information had arrived in the mail the week before, you can imagine my dismay when the lady at Baptist Minor Medical (the THIRD minor medical I'd driven to, after the address of the first one turned out to be a Holiday Ham, I shit you not) told me that actually? I'm not covered until December 1.

I drove home, sobbing, to my parents' house, where my dear old Dad turned me right around and drove me back to the doctor's office to pay their exorbitant fee and get me seen. The doctor ran through the million trillion BILLION things it could be, but in the end felt pretty sure that it was, in fact, my little nubbin of an appendix. He wanted me to go to the ER. With no insurance, that basically wasn't going to happen until my appendix exorcised itself from my body like a little baby alien, so he wrote me a prescription for some free antibiotics (free? ex-squeeze me?), told me to keep an eye on my temperature and stick to clear liquids, and sent me on my way.

Slowly but surely, things have been improving since then, and now mostly the only thing I feel is exhaustion from the antibiotics. They never fail to wipe me out. I did finally blog about speed dating for Memphis Connect, so you can check that out, and expect an explosion of content here this week. I need to tell you the full story of the couch that almost didn't fit through my front door until adrenaline kicked in and I lifted a car off a baby, in addition to many, MANY more tales of Mr. November. Who, dare I say, is less than 24 hours from making it to December. You'll find all my secrets to longevity in my upcoming book on relationships. Should be a quick read.


cheers,
elizabeth