Um, YEAH, I totally meant my ovaries.

It turns out that me feeling so much better on Saturday was a total fake out.  It was merely a reprieve as my body unknowingly prepared for experiencing why some people use "violently" as an adverb with "ill".  I have never felt so sick in my entire life.

That's how I ended up at Urgent Care Sunday evening crying into my Throw Up Bowl (run to the bathroom?  Ain't nobody got time for that) fully convinced I was going to be the first case in history of some crazy hybrid flu that made even the hardest of doctors sympathetic to my misery.  I would be the woman the staff gather around to garner bragging rights that they were the first to see "Sublurban Mama Close to Death Flu" in southeastern Michigan, 2013.

I had the best nurse.  Her name was Rebekah, and she is the youngest of five, and a triplet. The first thing she did after my hour and a half wait yielded me a trip back into the coveted land where there are Actual Nurses and Doctors was transfer me to a room with a gurney so I could lie down.  Rebekah, because she is an awesome nurse, knew being in a room with just an exam table was not going to do the job.  (Although, in the interest of full disclosure: I totally crashed on the floor in the waiting room because I have no shame I'm not that picky.)(And the waiting room was full of chairs and love seats that were deceptive in the way they looked like they could handle a curled up 5'3" woman.)(But they couldn't.)(Handle me.)(Don't worry, the floor stepped up.)(Or rather, I stepped down.)(Okay, I slid.)(Pouty faced and pathetic.)(The important part is that I rested and did not throw up in public.)

Rebekah was 100% supportive in all the right ways, even though I was probably the fiftieth case of the flu she had dealt with that day, and each case knew theirs was the worst case Rebekah had ever seen in her career. (Sorry guys, mine was the worst.  True story.)  She got me water and warm blankets and didn't make me feel like an idiot that I came to Urgent Care even though I knew no one could do anything but Dear God, make it stop I was desperate.  She even suggested I get an official pregnancy test since Aunt Flo is running a little behind schedule this month. (Negative on the bun in the oven.) She also totally made up for Dr. P, who was a (Holy Ghost edit).

Dr. P was not 100% supportive.  This is the story of our relationship.

Scene:  Kelly is on a gurney, probably dying of a weird flu that will be named after her. There is a sharp knock at the door, and as Kelly is registering sound (although not processing the source) the door sweeps open and in storms a young, tall, attractive man.

Man: How are you? I'm Dr P. (Keeps talking.)(Dude is like a freight train of talking.)
Kelly:  (still on first question, interrupts)  I've been better.
Dr. P: (looks confused - is she talking to me?)
(this man has no sense of humor)
Dr. P: So what's wrong?
Kelly:  I have the flu and it hurts everywhere.
Dr. P: Well, you have the flu.  It can hurt.  Sit up.
Kelly: (tries to sit up and gets tangled in the blanket.)(Is also still wearing her coat zipped and hood on.)
Dr. P: Where does it hurt?
Kelly: Everywhere. But mostly... (pantomimes rubbing her abdomen.)
Dr. P: Show me exactly.
Kelly: (unzips her coat at the speed of molasses.)(Thinks she is being the fastest coat unzipper-er ever.)(Jabs at a specific spot in her stomach.  But since she's a mom who has lost 100 pounds and is hunched over on a gurney, it's not nearly specific enough for Dr. P.)
Dr. P: Lay down and show me.
Kelly: (Has enough brain power to register that maybe she should be embarrassed that she is not wearing a bra that could have been some kind of veiled reference to the Mama Gut she is still rocking.)(Gets offended that she is really sick and this doctor just barely by the craziest interpretation possible kind of called her fat.)(Also, maybe when Kelly feels picked on she starts verbally spewing any excuse of justification that comes to mind.)

(I'm explaining the motivation of the character here.)(That was totally a character note, Dude.)(This is like, a professional level screenplay dialogue.)

(Back to Kelly feeling the need to seem smarter and more altogether ... together than current situation would suggest.)

Kelly: I'm a triathlete.  I mean, I know what it means to persevere.  You know, when you're in pain. I'm not a wuss.  So I don't really know anatomy, but I'm pretty sure it's my kidneys. Can we just rip those out?
Dr. P: Show me.
Kelly: (Juts her hips in the air and digs her fingers in to the spot of torture.)

This is a picture of my reenactment once I felt better the next day (because if I were President the first thing I would do is give every household Zofran.  And complimentary fiber.  Holy Side Effects, Batman.)  If you know anatomy this picture is already hilarious.  If not, don't worry, I'll explain soon.

Dr. P: (Steps back.)(NO EXPRESSION WHATSOEVER.)
Dr. P: Anywhere else?
Kelly:  Just my whole stomach hurts.
Dr. P: (Steps closer and begins to probe.) Tell me if it hurts.
Kelly:  (Is in full panic because now she is worried that 1. it's going to hurt and 2. she might throw up.  This realization brings that panic that 3. she has never throw up without pooping at the same time, and now she has to try to accurately assess a pain level and not throw up and poop on this doctor who already thinks she is a hypochondriac retard.) (Finally answers) It's all ... sensitive.
Dr. P: Okay, we'll put you on an IV for dehydration and give you Zofran for nausea.
Kelly: My mouth tastes like metal. (What she means is, "Hey Dr. House, here's a weird symptom that you can add to your puzzle in order to correctly diagnose and treat me. Because I am too sick to have the normal flu.)
Dr. P: Yes. You're dehydrated.
Kelly: (Desperate) And my hips and knees are killing me. (C'mon, House, work your magic.)
Dr. P : Dehydration. (Leaves the room.)

End scene.  Well, not exactly.

The next day, having received my IV and Zofran from Rebekah the Angel Nurse and feeling almost close to normal (just a lot worn out) I also was able to fully distinguish a flu-like stomach ache from period cramps.  And then when Aunt Flo visited around noon I finally put together that when I asked Dr. P to rip out my kidneys?  You know, these kidneys?

The kidneys all the way in my lower abdomen that were trying to kill me?  The kidneys that I asked Dr. P to rip out were really my ovaries.

So yeah, I *did* have some weird hybrid flu.  Pee Em Ess Flu, Dude.  Don't hate.

Awesome.