Ouch!

This week has officially sucked. It started on Monday, when I found out on my birthday that my cat has cancer. (Bobby had a more rational conversation with the vet today, and there's reason to be cautiously optimistic.) Ever since Monday, I've been having super-severe-at-times pain right around my belly button. It wasn't constant, only when I bent over, squatted, or reached in certain ways. But when it occurred, it was bad. The best way I could describe it was that it felt like something inside was ripping in half. Just a burning, ripping, severe pain.

By Wednesday, when it still hadn't gone away, Bobby convinced me to see my doctor. My doctor is wonderful, but the worst part of seeing her is the wait. I never, ever get out of there quickly. She told me once that she treats patients the way she would want to be treated, which includes spending a lot of time with them in the exam room -- which is great when it's your turn ... not so great when you're waiting in an exam room for 90 minutes. So as a work-in yesterday, I got there shortly after dropping Maggie off at school and left just in time to pick her up, nearly three hours later.

She sent me for an abdominal CT, which was fun. Not. I couldn't eat or drink anything for six hours, which doesn't sound too bad until your stomach starts growling several hours later. Or until you have to feed your child lunch but can't eat anything yourself. Or until you start to get a bad headache but can't even drink water, let alone take something for the pain. When I got to the imaging center, there was some confusion about what procedure I was there for, followed by my being told to consume a gigantic bottle of vanilla-flavored barium. The nurse said, "It's really cold, and here's a straw," as if these somehow made the experience less unpleasant. The first couple of sips weren't too bad ... it tasted like a really, really watery vanilla milkshake. But then I realized that I was going to have to make myself drink the whole thing. "Just chug it," the lady offered. "It's really better that way."

So I did, and I immediately felt gross. I desperately wanted some water to wash it all down, but that was a no-no. And then I had to sit there for 45 min. waiting on the barium to make its way through my system. When it was time for the scan, a tech gave me an IV and injected it with some sort of contrast material. Talk about WEIRD. I got a strange taste in my mouth, which she'd said would happen, and I started feeling warm in a few places throughout my body, which she'd also said would happen. Then, just as I started to feel a particularly gross new sensation, she added, "And no, you're not peeing on yourself." I'm really glad she told me that, because that's exactly what it felt like I was doing. So weird and so gross.

I've never understood how people get freaked out by CT scans, MRI's, or other tests that require one's body to be inserted into a tube. Now I know. They get freaked out because it's freaky. My tube wasn't even a full tube ... more like a giant donut into which my body, lying on a table, was slid in and out. The thing made lots of high-tech noises, I could see something inside spinning around and around, and a computerized female voice instructed me, "Breathe in and hold it your breath ... now breathe normally." I was only in for about 10 minutes, but I can see how valium would be an asset.

Long story short ... I have a 2.5 cm tear in one of my abdominal muscles. I have no idea how I've done this -- I don't exercise regularly, and the only heavy lifting I do is in the form of a 40-pound child. My doctor is sending me for an ultrasound tomorrow; when she ordered the CT scan, she was thinking gallbladder, and she said the ultrasound will give a better look at the muscle. She's also ordered R&R (no lifting of any sort) and anti-inflammatories. Depending on how things go over the weekend and what the ultrasound says, she may refer me to a surgeon.

Don't get me wrong; I'm glad it's nothing more serious. But really, don't you think every mother of a young child longs to spend the two weeks before Christmas facing possible surgery? I'm ready for a do-over.