Good bye my lover, good bye my friend....
Ok guys.
This is not good.
Following the weekend's Grand Final festivities... Monday morning I awoke to a distant pain in my belly.
"Hmmm.... Must have been the seafood laksa I had for dinner last night" I thought to myself.
45 minutes later I was in the fetal position on my bathroom floor, gasping for air and generally feeling like my stomach was fighting a blazing war with my bowel.
45 minutes later I am still in before mentioned fetal position laid across three chairs in the Doctor's office.
J has ice cream bucket on hand in case I felt the need to projectile vomit. Ugly kid thinks its funny when he pokes my nostrils with a Lego block. J advises parent of before mentioned child, that it may be a good idea to remove said child from waiting room. Or perhaps the building.
45 minutes later, J carries me into the Doctor's Office.
Doctor pokes my belly 4-5 times.
J advises the doctor that poking isn't a good idea.
Doctor keeps on poking.
I scream.
Doctor and J back away fairly quickly.
Doctor gives me some Valium.
All is well.
So I can now string a sentence together and half-smile.
J and Doctor breathe a sigh of relief.
Doctor does pregnancy test.
I scream at Doctor that "Don't you think I would know if I was in labour, you &^%!$@&@(*#^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Doctor gives me more drugs and calls nurse for backup.
During my drugged up haze I distinctively remember hearing the words "difficult, unruly, scary".
The nurse laughs at me.
I advise the nurse that she can go fuck herself, in the nicest way possible.
Nurse asks me to write down everything I had to eat and drink this past weekend.
I did.
The list:
Friday night: four glasses of wine, two bowls of popcorn and noodle soup.
Saturday: 4 beers, 3 spirits, 2 wine, 2 slices of pizza, half bowl of wedges, half packet of crisps, antipasto platter, noodle dim dum soup.
Sunday: More or less repeat but add hangover curing McDonalds.
OK OK OK.
Before you all get on your high horses.... this was a particular and very rare over indulgence on my part. I am usually an angel *snicker*.... no really, I usually eat very well.
But all it takes is a big party like Grand Final weekend for me to forget, that I am in fact a living organism, which needs nourishing and of course rest.
I am not a machine.
Repeat: I am not a machine.
At least I'm not anymore.
Upon leaving the Doctor's office, I heard a little whispering session between the Doctor and J.
And then my whole world came crashing down.
He said it...
THAT word.
....
....
....
Detox.
Please send me sympathy comments... I am completely devastated.
