Where Do I Start? (Long overdue update)
My last post was January 2. I was excited to "reclaim my body" and slightly annoyed with MG (Match Guy). Little did I know what would happen beginning just 2 days later.
For those who are not my Facebook friends, here is what happened -- and why I've been absent for almost 6 months.
On Friday, January 4, I felt like I was coming down with the flu. I took my temperature and it was elevated. I took Tylenol and started to do All The Right Things (TM). My fever spiked at 103.2*, but quickly came back down and settled in the 100.5*-101.5* range. Over the weekend my temperature remained consistent in that low grade fever, but I continued to add worsening symptoms. By Saturday at noon, I just wanted to be in bed. Monday morning, I called my doctor's office. Being the daughter of a nurse and well versed in medicalese, when they called me back that afternoon I was honest and thorough with the nurse about everything that was happening.
Her conclusion was that I had either the flu or one of the GI bugs going around. I was advised to keep doing All The Right Things (TM) and if I got worse, to call them again or go to urgent care.
3 hours later, they got worse.
I suffered through the worst night of my life. By 6:30 the following morning, I knew I was seriously ill. I waited until 7:00 to text some friends to see who could take me to the hospital. I finally called one, who told me based on what I had told her that my next steps were to get off the phone with her and call 911. She would meet me at the hospital.
At the hospital, the doctor initially thought I might have appendicitis, and ordered all the appropriate tests, which included a CT scan. When my CT came back, you would have thought I was a celebrity. Suddenly I wasn't a medium-to-low priority patient; I was Very Sick. Based on my CT, they thought I had some form of aggressive ovarian cancer.
Oh, and a UTI. But, cancer.
I was admitted and told I would have surgery either that afternoon or the next day. I met my surgeon that night, a formidable and excellent gynecological oncologist, who assured me that I in fact did NOT have cancer. Beyond that, though, she didn't know what was wrong with me.
4+ hours on the operating table resulted in a 12" scar that runs from my waist line down to my nether regions. They removed my appendix, my ovaries and fallopian tubes (I'd already had a hysterectomy), a hemangioma on my liver, and had to resection my liver. They spent 2+ hours cleaning wide-spread infection out of my abdomen.
I was literally lucky to be alive. The next day, she stood at the foot of my bed and told me had I not come into the ER when I did, I would probably be dead by then. I spent 8 days in the hospital with 2 different antibiotics running 24 hours a day. I went from energetic to wiped out if I walked around the unit more than once or twice. I ate almost nothing. Upon release, I went on full disability for an additional month, partial disability for another month.
The cause of all this fun? That UTI the ER doc had mentioned in passing. It was completely asymptomatic. She told me it was "mild"; later when I saw my ER labs they said "acute UTI". But she was more concerned that maybe I had cancer, so I'll give her a pass on that.
While I was in the hospital, MG did text. I gave him an out. He took it.
At least, for a little while.
Then, he started texting again. Blowing up my phone. Obsessed with food. I wasn't feeling up to eating anything or seeing anyone, but that didn't dissuage him. He turned the food obsession on himself, seeking to gain weight -- far too much for his frame. As I gradually went back to work and back to life, he continued to blow up my phone. The theme was always the same. Food, food, food. Finally, I reached out to our mutual friend, and what she said in our conversation suddenly made everything click.
She suspects he's on the autism spectrum. High-functioning, obviously. But as soon as she said that, everything made sense. His social awkwardness. His focus on one thing that often changed. His child-like attitude to many things. His inability to follow through on certain things. He's been full of "we should do this" and "we should do this", but when I would tell him when I was free he wouldn't follow through.
This continued up until about 3 weeks ago. Then, like a light switch, silence. Blessed silence.
Since then, he's texted me a few times. Blew up my phone a little this morning. A scroll through our conversations shows our ratio is about 1:6 -- one of my messages for 6 of his. I'm very non-committal. I'm not interested.
A few days ago, I finally went back out on Tinder. So far, I've been chatting with several guys, none of which have moved to texting yet. It's a holiday weekend, though. I'm as popular as I've ever been, and spent most of my time weeding through the ones who have "liked" me. I'm doing a lot of swiping left, less not swiping, and very little swiping right.
But we all know what me being on Tinder means. Oh yeah. Here come the blog posts.
For those who are not my Facebook friends, here is what happened -- and why I've been absent for almost 6 months.
On Friday, January 4, I felt like I was coming down with the flu. I took my temperature and it was elevated. I took Tylenol and started to do All The Right Things (TM). My fever spiked at 103.2*, but quickly came back down and settled in the 100.5*-101.5* range. Over the weekend my temperature remained consistent in that low grade fever, but I continued to add worsening symptoms. By Saturday at noon, I just wanted to be in bed. Monday morning, I called my doctor's office. Being the daughter of a nurse and well versed in medicalese, when they called me back that afternoon I was honest and thorough with the nurse about everything that was happening.
Her conclusion was that I had either the flu or one of the GI bugs going around. I was advised to keep doing All The Right Things (TM) and if I got worse, to call them again or go to urgent care.
3 hours later, they got worse.
I suffered through the worst night of my life. By 6:30 the following morning, I knew I was seriously ill. I waited until 7:00 to text some friends to see who could take me to the hospital. I finally called one, who told me based on what I had told her that my next steps were to get off the phone with her and call 911. She would meet me at the hospital.
At the hospital, the doctor initially thought I might have appendicitis, and ordered all the appropriate tests, which included a CT scan. When my CT came back, you would have thought I was a celebrity. Suddenly I wasn't a medium-to-low priority patient; I was Very Sick. Based on my CT, they thought I had some form of aggressive ovarian cancer.
Oh, and a UTI. But, cancer.
I was admitted and told I would have surgery either that afternoon or the next day. I met my surgeon that night, a formidable and excellent gynecological oncologist, who assured me that I in fact did NOT have cancer. Beyond that, though, she didn't know what was wrong with me.
4+ hours on the operating table resulted in a 12" scar that runs from my waist line down to my nether regions. They removed my appendix, my ovaries and fallopian tubes (I'd already had a hysterectomy), a hemangioma on my liver, and had to resection my liver. They spent 2+ hours cleaning wide-spread infection out of my abdomen.
I was literally lucky to be alive. The next day, she stood at the foot of my bed and told me had I not come into the ER when I did, I would probably be dead by then. I spent 8 days in the hospital with 2 different antibiotics running 24 hours a day. I went from energetic to wiped out if I walked around the unit more than once or twice. I ate almost nothing. Upon release, I went on full disability for an additional month, partial disability for another month.
The cause of all this fun? That UTI the ER doc had mentioned in passing. It was completely asymptomatic. She told me it was "mild"; later when I saw my ER labs they said "acute UTI". But she was more concerned that maybe I had cancer, so I'll give her a pass on that.
While I was in the hospital, MG did text. I gave him an out. He took it.
At least, for a little while.
Then, he started texting again. Blowing up my phone. Obsessed with food. I wasn't feeling up to eating anything or seeing anyone, but that didn't dissuage him. He turned the food obsession on himself, seeking to gain weight -- far too much for his frame. As I gradually went back to work and back to life, he continued to blow up my phone. The theme was always the same. Food, food, food. Finally, I reached out to our mutual friend, and what she said in our conversation suddenly made everything click.
She suspects he's on the autism spectrum. High-functioning, obviously. But as soon as she said that, everything made sense. His social awkwardness. His focus on one thing that often changed. His child-like attitude to many things. His inability to follow through on certain things. He's been full of "we should do this" and "we should do this", but when I would tell him when I was free he wouldn't follow through.
This continued up until about 3 weeks ago. Then, like a light switch, silence. Blessed silence.
Since then, he's texted me a few times. Blew up my phone a little this morning. A scroll through our conversations shows our ratio is about 1:6 -- one of my messages for 6 of his. I'm very non-committal. I'm not interested.
A few days ago, I finally went back out on Tinder. So far, I've been chatting with several guys, none of which have moved to texting yet. It's a holiday weekend, though. I'm as popular as I've ever been, and spent most of my time weeding through the ones who have "liked" me. I'm doing a lot of swiping left, less not swiping, and very little swiping right.
But we all know what me being on Tinder means. Oh yeah. Here come the blog posts.
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