Monday, December 21, 2015


So...Saturday morning I woke up in a great amount of pain.  I won't elaborate too much, because when it comes to pain, elaboration isn't altogether necessary. Let's just say that it was somewhere in between "Wow, this is kind of bad" and "This is appendicitis and I need to go to the hospital."

I thought I could tough it out, honestly, because what are the chances that I'd wake up with appendicitis out of nowhere, really?  I figured that the pain would stop and I'd go about my day.  Only, it didn't stop.  It got a bit more bearable, but it didn't go away.  I think I've mentioned that I'm not the kind of person who goes to the emergency room for just anything (and the fact that I went to a walk-in clinic for what I thought was a heart attack should be proof enough) but this time I decided that I should probably go and get checked out.  I couldn't stand up straight and it felt like I was slowly being stabbed in my right side.  Granted, as the pain had lessened a bit, I knew I wasn't in immediate danger or anything, but if something inside of me is getting ready to explode, I thought it might be best to see about getting ahead of any unpleasantness.  I was determined to take a shower and put on clean clothes before going, so I (quickly) did that and we drove to the hospital.

We were taken back to a room impressively quickly, and I was immediately given an IV and had blood drawn.  Then I was given pain meds and everything got so shiny and bright.  They x-rayed me, gave me a CT scan, and then the doctor came in to talk to me.  The pain had quietened down a bit, so I wasn't in agony, but when the starting pressing down on my side, I felt like a water balloon on the brink of popping.  It was a weird feeling, but it wasn't terrible.  The doctor left us to wait until they could run tests and see what was going on, and that is how we were for several hours.  I kept thinking how embarrassed I was that I was at the hospital and wasn't hurting anymore, but Steve kept reminding me that I'd been given pain meds, so I shouldn't be hurting.

I have this fear, or if not a fear, a concern, that I'm going to end up being the kind of person who goes to the emergency room for absolutely no reason and waste everyone's time.  That is the main reason I always usually go to the walk-in clinic when something's wrong.  I know a lot of nurses, so I don't want to be an unnecessary burden on them in case someone who needs them more comes in.  I kept apologizing on the off chance that there was nothing wrong with me.  I'm sure they were annoyed, but they all assured me that it was better that I came in, just in case.  I just don't want to bother people.  That's pretty much the crux of the matter.

I'll be honest, though, I was expecting to be operated on that day.  Steve and I discussed all of the things that we might need to discuss in the event I needed surgery, my DNR preference, the go ahead to take out anything that needed to be taken out, and if I died, donate everything salvageable.  You know, the normal stuff.  I even gave him the info on how to implement my zombie apocalypse plan in case it happened while I was unconscious (I should have never watched the first episode of The Walking Dead. Also, pain meds are fun.)  We waited and waited, but no one came in to tell us anything.  We noticed that the ER doc who had seen me was Dr. Jones (unfortunately, his first name was not Indiana) and Steve started cracking Indiana Jones jokes that made me laugh, which didn't feel good, but it was good to laugh.  I'm not sure how long we were there, but the nurse came back in to tell me all of my tests were OK and I could leave.  They didn't explain the angry wolverine that had been trying to claw itself out of my abdomen earlier that day, which was disappointing.  I would have liked to know why that was happening.  They gave me  prescriptions for pain and anti-nausea medicine, I apologized again for any inconvenience, and we left.  So, I have no idea what happened to me Saturday morning, but I was pretty much OK by noon. I didn't hurt, but it felt like a balloon slowly inflating inside of me getting bigger and bigger. 

We went to Target to get the medicine, just in case, and I was still kind of high from the pain medicine they'd given me at the hospital. That was fun.  It wasn't too bad, because I think it had mostly worn off, but I know I texted a bit and maybe didn't make a lot of sense. I don't know, really.  Maybe no one else noticed!  I went home and slept a lot.  I didn't take a pain pill because I wasn't hurting, but I took one of the other ones.  Then I ate, which was a big mistake.  I spent the rest of the evening really, very unpleasantly.  I think it could have been a reaction to the medicine I'd taken, but I have no idea.

Sunday I woke up feeling like death on a stick, but I had to go to church and run the sound for the choir's Christmas cantata.  I was the only one who knew how to adjust the music, so I did that.  It wasn't terrible.  I wasn't in the same kind of pain I'd been in the day before, but mainly the "balloon" was still in there.  I decided that I wouldn't go to lunch with Steve and his dad, and instead went home where I slept for several more hours.  I'd even decided I wouldn't go back to church that night, because of the way I was feeling.  The balloon had been replaced by a feeling like I had been punched in the side and was having a pencil driven into me quite slowly, so I decided to take a pain pill.  I don't know what the pills are, but I know they aren't the really powerful ones.  I don't know what they are, but they WORK.  By the time Steve came home, I was not feeling any pain at all.  I also wasn't blinking, and with a bit of persuasion, I probably would have been convinced that I could have flown to church if I'd flapped my arms hard enough.  Apparently, I'm sensitive to this kind of stuff.  I told Steve that I was going to be fine, so he took me to church.

I don't think I have to tell you that I was only in the initial stages of feeling the effects of that pill when we got there.  I was cheerful, and not hurting, but I still wasn't blinking and the lights were so pretty.  I got steadily more "involved" with whatever I had taken as church went on.  I was running the sound and video system, which went OK at first, but the computer decided to switch off in the middle of things, and I slumped to the ground and scrabbled around with wires until I could make it work again. I had no idea what I was doing.  I also decided upgrading the computer to Windows 10 in the middle of service seemed like a great idea, even though I had no idea if our software was compatible.  By the time preaching got started, I was full on stoned.  I don't know how else to explain it.  All I could do is stare at the lights, and I had no idea what the pastor was talking about. I couldn't follow the music and I STILL wasn't blinking.  I got to the point where, had this been tequila instead of pain medicine, I would have had my top off and been sending rude Snapchats to everyone I knew.  I'm not kidding, I actually started thinking about doing just that, but thank the Lord and whatever pharmaceutical company that made my pills, it didn't disable my Jiminy Cricket voice.  That voice kept telling me "No, no, let's not do that, OK? This is neither the time nor the place."  I listened to that voice.


Today the balloon is back and it feels like I swallowed some staples, but I can't take anything until I get home because I have to drive.  I hope that I don't have to go back to the hospital.  Maybe not!  So that was my weekend!  Hope yours was as much fun! :)

Tuesday, December 15, 2015


1) Last Saturday, a couple had a wedding at our church.  Well, technically, it was a vow renewal, but because they'd never had a church wedding, just a Justice of the Peace deal, they wanted to have something their friends and family could come to. Actually, it turned out to be a double vow renewal ceremony because the bride's son and his wife had also gotten married by a JotP and wanted to do it again in front of family and friends. Only no one they invited came.  Not one person.  Granted, it wasn't supposed to be a big, lavish deal or anything, but still.  I felt so bad.  I was their only wedding guest, and to be fair, I wasn't really a guest as much as I was a worker.  It was still a beautiful ceremony, though. The church is decorated for Christmas, the brides were beautiful, the grooms were handsome, and everything went well.  It was a very sweet wedding.

I don't mean to sound braggy by telling you this, but I actually did a lot for this wedding, and it's kind of funny when I look back on it.  I made the decorations for the reception, made the unity candles, played the music, controlled the lights, took the photos, laid out the food for the reception, served the drinks, caught the bouquet, ate with the two couples, cleaned up afterwards, and saw them off from the church!  Apparently, all of our dry goods from the pantry had been given out, so we didn't have any rice to throw, but I did find a jar of dried beans for soup, so I threw those at them instead. Hey, it was all we had and I couldn't let them leave without something!  If I'd had a couple of weeks warning, I could have probably gone to the courthouse and gotten a temporary county license to perform the ceremony since I was ordained online a while back!  I'm a one woman wedding chapel, y'all!  If you ever need a wedding in a hurry, just let me know.  I can hook you up!  I will also throw beans at you, but that's just a bonus. :)

2) Sadly, our pastor's mother passed away on Friday.  I never got to meet her, but he'd told me stories about her and she seemed like a really hip lady.  She'd been bedridden for years after a botched back surgery almost killed her.  I feel so bad for the pastor but he seems to be holding up well.  He reminds me a lot of my dad after my own grandmother passed away.  I hope he'll take some time to rest and recoup over the next couple of weeks.  Sorrow is exhausting, and he isn't the kind of person to sit still and rest, but I hope he will at least try.  Trying to tell someone like that to take some time off is pretty much an exercise in futility, but I did anyway.  Got to keep everyone sane around here, you know.

Steve and I went to her viewing last night and there were a lot of people there.  It was very confusing!  Instead of the whole family standing in a receiving line, they were just in little groups in the chapel, and every time we would walk over to talk to the people we knew, someone would slide in front of us and start a long conversation with the family member.  It was borderline rude, although I know they didn't mean to be that way.  I also got the stink eye from some of those denim-skirted-bun-head ladies while we were there.  I guess because I was wearing slacks and makeup, I don't know.  Personally, I don't think Jesus cares what I wear as long as I'm decent, and I certainly made sure to be!  Had I known I'd get snurled at, though, I would have gone with the first thing I tried on, which was a dress I hadn't worn in years that turned out to be so low cut in the front that it went past indecent and all the way to hilarious!  I refuse to be shamed for my clothes by anyone wearing a denim skirt. Don't test me.

3) This lady at my church is a fantastic cook and she's always bringing me food.  I can say I'm not hungry, and no thank you, and regardless I'll have a plate of something in my hand in less than 15 minutes. If I was stronger, I could just not eat it, but you guys, that woman can COOK.  Everything she makes is delicious and I am helpless.  I'd already had breakfast when she came in for the ladies prayer meeting this morning, and she asked if I wanted anything. I told her no. She did not accept that answer. I have just finished a slice of quiche and some kind of barbecued sausage and I think I'm so full I might die. I regret nothing, and everything.  I'd do it again.  Help me.

4) You know, I've always had this ability to kind of read people.  It kind of freaks people out, because some folks think it's supernatural or something, but really, it's just about paying attention. Anyone can do it if they are interested enough to try.  Honestly, I wish I was much better at it, but as it is, I do alright. At least I used to do alright. Anyway, being able to read people is useful, because if you can do that, you aren't surprised very often by what they do.  That is comforting in a way.  But lately I've come to realize that there are some people who I should be completely in tune with, that never, ever do what I think they will anymore.  I don't know if it's time or distance, or if I just don't spend enough time actually with the person, or if my brain is broken somehow, but it's really frustrating!  I'll be the first to admit that it's an inexact science, this reading people, and that sometimes it's more of wishful thinking situation where you think "Oh, if they answer this question *this way* that would be a perfect response." However, I've been right more often than not in the past, but now...even Steve is surprising me lately, and with a few glaring exceptions, I'm pretty sure I had him pegged.  It's weird and frustrating and I need to get my vibe fixed soon before all you wonderful, crazy people drive me insane.