Maybe I'm paranoid, but I think May doesn't like me.
Tuesday was Tom's 55th birthday. I've barely been home the past week and looked forward to having some time off yesterday afternoon to write a post here about how grateful I am for each of those 55 years... especially the 30 I've shared with him...
Instead, I spent most of the afternoon doubled up in pain on the couch until I drove myself to the emergency room, where I spent the rest of the evening.
I was sure it was a gall bladder attack. It hit right after eating one of my veggie omelettes that I drown in picante sauce, and the only other time I've had pain like that (other than labor for each one of my kids) is after eating a spicy Thai salad several years ago. My friends with experience told me then that it sounded like a gall bladder rebellion.
Not life threatening, so when it subsided a bit, I just called and made an appointment for today with my doctor and tried to get comfortable on the couch.
But I couldn't. When it didn't go away after a few hours, and even felt like it was getting worse again, I thought I better get a second opinion, or I guess third, if you count Google, and off to the ER I went, in such a rush I didn't even grab a book.
To put it into perspective, I think it's been over thirty years since I went to an emergency room for myself. Who has time for that? I didn't even go when I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest two years ago.
Ah, May. Why don't you like me?
Shingles had attacked me the previous May. Or maybe that year it was the super duper urinary tract infection... only the second one I've had in my life... and shingles was the year before.
At any rate, last May I held my breath all month, wondering what disease or affliction would hit me out of the blue. Surprise... I made it through with no surprises! I thought the May curse was broken.
I guess it wasn't.
On the up side, my internal organs passed all of yesterday's tests with flying colors. An hour after the morphine shot, my pain went away and hasn't returned. I'm flummoxed but relieved! I think the doctor was flummoxed, too. He called it a stomach virus, gave me a prescription for nausea medicine (which I didn't and still don't need) and released me to my dear friends Mary Kay and Joe. (I couldn't drive myself home because of the morphine.)
Also on the up side, these random May afflictions remind me to not take my health for granted... or anything for granted, really, because things can change in a split second, can't they? So maybe May is just being a good friend, keeping me humble and on my toes. And grateful when things go right.
After all, a month that celebrates mothers, welcomed my husband into the world, and gives us beautiful flowers can't be too bad, can it?
(I'll still be glad when June arrives.)