Bad Luck Chelsea
Just when it seemed like I was going to be okay, the universe tries to drag me back down into the gutter, TWICE.
First, I'd like to note that 99% of my original health problems resolved after I was correctly diagnosed and treated. Within a little less than a month, not only did I feel better than I did prior to getting sick, I felt better than I had maybe ever? My energy, strength and will to live came back, some weight fell off, hair started growing back, my hormones evened out, I was mentally sharper, clearer, less emotional, etc. I'd finally found the one thing that had been dragging me down since birth and fixing it radically transformed my health in a way I'd never imagined was possible.
THEN... I had an accident. I dropped a large, heavy glass jar of coconut oil on my foot while making breakfast one morning. Within seconds, my kitchen turned into something resembling a crime scene. It was bad. Very bad. A lot of blood. I had to go to the hospital. I fractured a toe. It was very difficult to walk or drive or wear shoes or just do anything for weeks.
"This is the final hurdle before everything is great!" I concluded. "If you can get through this, karmically, you will definitely deserve a period of incredible luck and good fortune!" I thought.
THEN... almost a week ago, on Sunday morning, I woke up feeling nauseous. I forced down a protein shake for breakfast, but hours later, my discomfort grew into sharp stabbing pains in my stomach. Actually, after this experience, I believe most people throw around the words "stabbing pain" too casually. This was absolutely transcendent amounts of pain. Borderline euphoric, hallucinatory, dry heaving up your demons pain. My first thought was, this is either my illness suddenly returning in a surprising, new way or a very exotic form of food poisoning.
Many hours into the pain, I thought I'd look up the signs of appendicitis, as I'd done a dozen other times in my life, and was shocked to find that this time I had all of them. I summoned whatever strength I had left, drove to the ER, and after a ridiculously long wait, was diagnosed with appendicitis, shot up with morphine and xanax, and admitted to the hospital. Oddly enough, they told me I was lucky that I caught it early. I can't imagine how much worse it could've gotten, since I was as close as I've ever been to blacking out from pain.
When I asked the surgeon why this happened to me, he said, "Because you're a bad person." Then we both laughed. That was my favorite part of the entire hospital experience. My second favorite part was when I woke up from anesthesia and asked if I was dying, they said no, and I started crying and arguing with them that I was dying.
I went home 24 hours after surgery and was in an absurd amount of pain for the first three days, but things are slowly getting more manageable now. But I do feel kind of nauseous all the time now. Also, a fly had babies somewhere in my apartment and I have to keep getting up to kill them so that the babies don't have more babies, and sometimes if I sneeze or cough, it feels like something inside of my stomach is tearing.
Anyway, it's been a stressful time, but it can't stay like this forever, right? RIGHT??!! Please God, someone, anyone, tell me that my life isn't going to continue to be a 24/7 nightmare forever. I need to believe this is the end of a stupid period and not the middle of a descending spiral into even more pain and suffering!
OK, I'm three hours overdue for a pain pill, so bye.