NZ 3: Adventure Capital of the World

In addition to elves and dwarves, flightless birds and sheep, and more rolling hills than you can even imagine, New Zealand is the land of adventure. Bungee jumping and skydiving were both made popular in New Zealand, among many other adrenaline-inducing activities.

Chris and I are definitely up for adventure, but neither one of us are entirely fond of sports. So our choice of activities fell somewhere in the middle. Some extreme stuff but no falling out of the sky. haha

This is the first commercial bungee jump operation in the world.

One of our favorite activities was the jetboat ride on the Shotover River in Queenstown. We had so much fun that we decided to buy the DVD they made for us. The video is a mix of promotional footage and actual shots inside the jetboat during our ride. They had a camera mounted in the front and back. Chris and I got there early and managed to snag the front two seats, next to the driver.

Another fun activity was driving off road in an ATV. This was on farmland, and we drove through a muddy swamp, over huge hills and through forests. Chris was a crazy driver in a very good way.

Another popular watersport in New Zealand is what they call black water rafting. Instead of rapids outside, we went tubing through an underground river. We even jumped down a few small waterfalls. I didn't really get any good pictures of this, so you'll have to use your imagination from this picture I snapped of the pictures they took (this was the only good one so we didn't want to pay for all of them ...) I'm in the front on the left and Chris is to the right of me.

And of course, we also partook in the usual white water rafting as well. These pictures turned out great, so we decided to splurge and buy the disk of pictures they took during our trip. Here's a few of my favorites.

At one point, we got our of the raft and climbed over to a six meter waterfall. And then we each jumped off it back into the water. Might have been the scariest thing I've ever done! We also convinced our guide to let us flip the raft. One of the guys on our raft had a Go Pro and took a video of it. When/if I track that down, I'll definitely post it!

And if that's not enough excitement, we also toughened up and headed up high in the treetops for some ziplining. For some reason this doesn't scare us as much as bungee jumping.

See what I mean in the video below. I'm fearless!

But not fearless enough to give this parachuting thing a try. In the two pictures below, these guys would jump off the top of a mountain and glide down to the beach in Queenstown. I think they were trying to land on a raft just out from the beach. We saw four guys come down, and one of them came really close. Two of them smacked down on the water so hard it really sounded like it hurt.

My personal favorite adventure activity was Zorbing. This ridiculous concoction involves climbing inside a giant clear ball that has a little water in the bottom. The ball is suspended within a larger ball, so you can't see our very clearly, but you also don't feel the ground bumping up under you either. And then, well, they push you down a hill.

There are three tracks, so you can go straight down, down a big curve with a drop, and down a zigzag course that tosses you around like you're in a washing machine (that one was my favorite).

Of course there's even more adrenaline-pumping activities to be found in New Zealand. These are just the ones we encountered first hand. And we did do a lot of other fun activities, but since they were a little less heart pounding, I figure I'll save those for a different post.

NZ 1: Stories from the Southern Hemisphere

We're back from our trip to New Zealand! I'm happy to report that it was an amazing adventure with so many incredible experiences that it's almost overwhelming just to think about, let alone tell someone about. Thus, I have decided to post about my trip in little bite-size posts, rather than one or two large ones. This way the posts should be more enjoyable for you, the reader, and may mean that I won't take six weeks to actually get all the pictures and stories uploaded.

So. For my first New Zealand post, I've composed a list of five fun facts I discovered during our vacation:

1. People in New Zealand love the word "kiwi." They use it to describe a lot of things. Flightless bird that only lives in New Zealand? Kiwi. The green fruit with the fuzzy brown skin that's grown around the world? Kiwi. People who live in New Zealand? Also Kiwi.

This is not the fruit. Also, I didn't take this picture. We only saw one in a very dark enclosure and he was way at the back.

2. Everything is reversed. Remember that old wives tale about how the toilet's flush in the opposite direction in the southern hemisphere? Well, honestly, I have no idea which direction the water swirls in my own toilet, so I didn't really notice in New Zealand. I did however notice that cars drive on the left, the driver sits on the left, and all the locks and knobs turn the opposite way. You know how when you turn a key in a lock you usually turn it toward the door jamb to lock it and away to unlock? Totally opposite down there. I got stuck in so many bathrooms over the last two weeks ...

3. Driving in America is like bowling with the bumpers up. You heard me. It's so easy to drive in the US, I can't believe it. In New Zealand, the roads are all about the same width as your car, give or take a few inches. And the speed limit on most of the roads is 100 kph. Yes, kilometers are shorter and therefore this is slower than 100 mph, but on teeny tiny roads that turn 90 degrees constantly and have no guard rail alongside a cliff, it feels like you're going unbelievably fast. Totally out of control. (Btw, 100 kph = 62 mph). Basically, if you try to always drive the speed limit on all the roads where it's legal, you will die. Without question. Splat. Depending on your skill level at maneuvering twisty roads at unsafe speeds, add an extra 10% to 40% of driving time to whatever Google Maps tells you.

That crazy man ziplining upside down is my husband. I may have done that as well ...

At the ocean in Napier on the North Island on a warm day.

4. New Zealand is not that old. No seriously. New Zealand became legally independent of Great Britain the same year I was born. They only just created their own Supreme Court in 2003. They had been a colony of Great Britain in the mid 1800s, and before that, it was mostly just the native people, the Maori (pronounced mowry or mary, depending on the accent ...) In many of the towns we visited, houses built in the 1980s were considered the "older homes in the area."

Bah.

5. There are 4.5 million people living in New Zealand and 9 million sheep. And when you're driving through most of the country, all you'll see is the sheep. That's because most of the population live in just three major cities. The rest of the country is unpopulated or farmland. Thousands upon thousands of acres for their sheep and cows to roam around. Kiwis claim that's why their milk is so much better than American milk - their cows actually get to eat grass. Kind of makes me feel bad for American livestock. There's no way our "free range" or "cage free" livestock have that kind of freedom. Except in Hawaii. Some farmers in Hawaii don't even use fences - the cows just wander between farms and open land (we observed this on the southern part of Maui a few years ago, where I not surprisingly ate the best burger of my life at a roadside stand).


See all the white dots on the hillside? All sheep. This was the view all over the country.

Kayaking the Doubtful Sound.

I'll continue to do more New Zealand posts over the next few weeks, so check back often. If you didn't follow my Instagram feed while we were traveling, check out my New Zealand pictures here and Chris's pictures here. My Google phone, which is sort of like my own personal stalker created this slideshow.

Thank you and "haere mai ano" (that means "come again" in Maori ... I think ...)

Where Does the Time Go?

Wow, it's been over a month since my last post! Things have been pretty busy around here and a lot has been taking up my spare time and energy.

For one, I'm sad to say my grandma recently passed away. I guess I've been spending some time thinking about her and what she meant to me. She was a special woman who played a huge hand in my childhood and shaping me into the person I am today. I always felt a special connection with her. She used to give the weirdest presents that everyone hated, but for some reason, the quirky gifts were always spot on with me. From turquoise trucker hats to a VHS of Girls Just Want to Have Fun, that woman totally got me. I'm going to miss her a lot, but I feel lucky that I was able to go back to Michigan for her funeral on a moment's notice. My husband is a wonderfully supportive person, and it's so amazing to have him helping me during moments like that. My best friend Katie was also a great comfort and joy during this time, so I feel even luckier.

On a happier note, the other thing that has been taking up so much of my time lately is vacation planning! Chris and I decided about a month ago to go to New Zealand! Soon! So I made a mad dash out of travel planning and booked everything for our two-week trip in just four days. That's not for the faint of heart, let me tell you. Ideally, I like a solid two months to plan a trip like that. But I got 'er done and we are so freaking excited to go on our trip.

Obviously I don't have any pictures to share yet (oh but I will!!!!) so in the meantime, all I can share is my Pinterest board where I've been collecting ideas of things to do. Some of them won't happen, but some of them we already have booked and I just can't wait. See my Pinterest board here.

If any of you have been to New Zealand before, please leave me a comment below. I'd love to hear any tips or suggestions you may have!

Hope all is well wherever you are. The snow bank in our front yard is now about two feet taller than me. Good times...

An Open Letter to All the Random Companies I've Never Heard of that Recently Contacted Me

Dear Recruiter,

Thank you for your recent unsolicited pushy phone calls/form emails where you forgot to fill in all the blank spots. That disruption to my day was much appreciated and made me really happy that I recently updated my resume on a job posting website.

Speaking of which, no, I do not believe you have recently reviewed my resume "on line" because if you did, you would have noticed that I am a copywriter and am, in fact, not looking for a full time sales position (there's supposed to be a hyphen between "full" and "time" in that instance, by the way). And if by some far stretch of the imagination you actually read my resume and realized that I was a copywriter, I must admit it scares me and does not make me want to work with you knowing that you do not realize that a copywriter would not make a good sales person.

Take a moment to consider this, if you need to.

I'll give you a hint: I prefer to communicate in writing. Getting there? No? While it's not a universal truth, you can generally assume that people who spend a lot of time perfecting the art of the written word are not spending that time talking to strangers they don't know and convincing them to buy things they don't want to buy. Personally, I'm a bit awkward at times and sort of a recluse. I have cats. Plural. So yeah, probably not a great fit. I always wanted to be a writer so that I wouldn't have to interact with a lot of people all the time. I don't like phone calls, (thanks again for that second follow-up call to tell me about why I should reconsider a promising career in sales), and I don't like talking to people I don't want to talk to. (Pause for emphasis).

I also don't own a single business suit. Again, I'm a writer, so I mainly dress in leggings and oversized sweaters. Lots of scarves too. I just got a Zombie Apocalypse charm bracelet that I've been wearing a lot too. If that actually is acceptable attire for your sales position, please let me know because I will give you a big thumbs up and tone down the snootiness a little.

But no, even then, I still wouldn't want to set up a time to discuss an opening in your corporation (is it just me or does that sound like a serious medical condition?). I know you weren't asking; you brazenly told me that you are willing to interview me for that coveted sales position and tried very hard to imply that I would be lucky to work for you. Sadly, that was not the message I inferred.

I wish you all the best as you continue to prey upon innocent people who are trying to better their lots in life and find new career opportunities. You're right. It's their own fault for thinking generic job posting sites are a convenient way to apply for jobs they are actually interested in. You showed them.

Kudos for trying to make your company look legitimate, though. In my younger days when I was fresh on the job market and eager to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I actually fell for it once or twice and made it to the "interview" where you try to convince a group of naïve recent grads that they'll make so much money if they work for you ... but you don't actually pay them. You only get paid when you make a sale. So for me, you never get paid. But at least you opened my eyes and helped me learn what I don't want to do with my life. Thanks for that.

Best of luck in continuing to waste everyone's time.

Sincerely,

Ms. Copywriter
Not a Sales Person

Surgery Update

Over two weeks ago, I had laparoscopic surgery. I mentioned it a couple days before in a blog post about my last surgery, which was an appendectomy that had a lot go wrong.

I'm happy to say this surgery went pretty smoothly. No ileus. No ruptured organs. No extended hospital stay. The doctor was able to remove the cyst from my right ovary and get me patched back up. The neat thing about laparoscopic surgery is that they don't have to make any large incisions. Just three small cuts, only one of which needed stitches. And thee doctor actually made them in the same spots as my appendectomy, so I don't really even have new scars. Then they pump the abdomen full of carbon dioxide so they have room to get their tools in and see what they're looking at. It's pretty crazy.

That said, the results of the surgery are turning out to be less wonderful. They sent the cyst out to get analyzed and so far, the pathology report says it's a "mucinous borderline ovarian tumor." In other words, it's not cancer, but it's not not cancer. The cells were neither benign nor malignant.

Who knew such a thing was possible?

Well, probably all doctors and lots of other people, but certainly not me. So now my doctor is going to present it to a tumor board to get opinions on what to do. Then we may send it out to other specialists to get more opinions before we decide. But the end result may be another surgery to remove the right ovary and check my lymph nodes.

Three weeks ago I thought I was fine. And now all this. Sometimes life is a rollercoaster you don't even know you're on.

While I'm anxious to find out what's going to happen, I'm actually not freaking out or anything. It could be because there's a chance I won't have to have another surgery. And it's super likely that even with the worse case scenario, I'll get through this fine.

Or maybe it's because I've been distracted by the pain of the surgery.

I woke up in pain. I didn't remember pain like that from the last surgery. I had expectations about what I would feel, and this blew me away. And the pain didn't really go away, even with pain medications.

The day after the surgery was also pretty awful. Not only did my abdomen hurt because of the cyst removal, but I also was suffering from severe pains caused by the carbon dioxide. It moves through your body and causes pretty terrible aches and pains.

The night of my surgery the carbon dioxide was around my lower ribs, and when I tried to reach the nightstand to take a pain pill, the stretch caused the CO2 to shift and it was like someone had tightened a thick belt around my ribs and was just tugging and tugging. I could barely catch my breath. Every time I breathed in, it hurt worse, causing my breath to rush out of me. And then of course I was terrified, so I started crying, and that certainly didn't help matters. Chris woke up quickly and rushed around the bed to get the pain meds. Then he just had to rub my arm and try to help me calm down. That happened a few times over the next day or so. It was very scary and very painful.

Eventually, the carbon dioxide moved up to my shoulders, where the doctors told me it would sit for a while and then eventually just go away. It was a bit like I was being stabbed in my shoulder blades. Fantastic. And the pain medication just wasn't cutting it.

After a day or so of that, the pain lessened, although I was still pretty sore in my abdomen. It got better each day though and six days after surgery, I was able to return to work. I did a short day and took it easy, but ... the next day I felt worse again. And the next day.

Like I said, rollercoaster ride. Seven days later, I was up to trying to go to work again. Finally I was able to go a couple days in a row, just for shorter days. I wasn't worse. I just wasn't better.

I'm happy to say I'm finally starting to feel better. I'm not 100%. Not even 90%. Maybe 75%. But that's better than nothing. For some reason I'm having pain a lot longer than is "normal" for this type of surgery, which my doctor can't explain, but I seem to be healing ok.

So now we're just waiting to hear from the doctor to see what the tumor board had to say. Hopefully we're due for some good news and there won't be another surgery. But no matter what, I just want to say thanks to my wonderful husband for taking such good care of me through all of this, and my family and friends for their concern. I'm lucky to have such caring people in my life.

You Take My Breath Away

Thought I needed to add a little addendum to my description of this year's Valentine's Day celebration. Turns out my surgery wasn't the only thing that was going to mess up our 2014 Valentine's Day. After I wrote yesterday's post, Chris took me out to eat at a nearby restaurant that I've really been wanting to try. So that was a nice surprise.

The food was delicious and although we didn't have any wine or alcohol with dinner (I can't have alcohol with the pain killers I'm on) we did enjoy a fantastic tiramisu for dessert. All in all, it was a nice meal and a good way to make the best of our already messed up Valentine's Day.

And then it happened. The curse. Chris had already paid the bill and went to take one last sip of water before getting up. I heard him cough just a little and then didn't hear anything, so I thought he was ok. But when he didn't get up and was staring at the table, I quickly realized something was wrong. Really wrong. His face started turning red and he very clearly wasn't able to breathe.

I slid out of the booth and must have said "Are you ok?" pretty loudly because several people turned around to look and a second later, a guy from the bar had run over and put his hand on Chris's shoulder. He also asked if Chris was ok, but Chris couldn't respond. He closed his eyes and made a loud noise as he tried to suck in air. Apparently he was able to get a small breath and he pointed to his water glass.

"It's just water," he croaked in a voice that had almost no breath behind it.

His face was still red and we just sat and waited for Chris to start breathing normally. We couldn't tell if he was getting any or not. He gasped a couple more times and was finally able to cough a little. Slowly, he seemed to be returning to normal. The man gave him a pat on the back and I thanked him for coming over.

Chris and I just stared at each other from across the booth. I had never seen anyone choke like that in real life, let alone on just water. I wasn't sure if I he needed the Heimlich or a slap on the back or what. And I didn't really think I would be able to do anything in my condition. Chris said he definitely felt about 5 seconds of complete panic before he was able to just force himself to take in a breath.

As we walked to the car, replaying the last few minutes in our heads, Chris muttered "The curse continues."

The Curse of St. Valentine IV: Cupid's Revenge

Chris and I love love love Halloween. We always have a fantastic time dressing up together, hanging out with friends, eating candy, decorating the house, and going to haunted houses and hayrides together. When you think about it, it's a pretty romantic holiday for us. I'm basically wrapped up in his arms through the whole month of October while we watch scary movies, sneak through haunted houses, and dress up in couple's costumes and go to parties together. What's more could you ask for?

Valentine's Day, on the other hand, has been less romantic for us over the years. Mostly because we seem to be under some strange curse. Luck is not with us on February 14th.

Here's a little recap of our so-called romantic holidays over the years:

Valentine's Day 2008: Chris flew out to Michigan to visit and we had a very nice Valentine's Day together. Two days later, my appendix ruptured and I spent the better part of a week in the hospital.

Valentine's Day 2009: We were in our first apartment and realized Oreo had worms coming out both ends. We had to rush him to the emergency vet. After spending hundreds of dollars and most of the day at the animal hospital, we wound up spending the rest of the evening in, checking on our poor kitty.

Valentine's Day 2010: We ate at a nice restaurant, gave each other thoughtful gifts and had really nice day together. A rare day indeed.

Valentine's Day 2011: The year we can't remember. We assume it was decent since we don't have night terrors about it still.

Valentine's Day 2012: Our house was broken into while we were at work. Police reports, bracing our broken door ... the whole nine yards. We also thought our scaredy cat had gotten out and was lost forever. We found him a few days later, apparently finally ready to come out of some secret hiding space in our house. But as you can imagine, the days while he was missing were pretty rough.

Valentine's Day 2013: One week earlier, Chris had terrible stomach pains and I had to rush him to the emergency room. He was diagnosed with a severe case of colitis and was put on a very restricted diet for days. By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, he was feeling a bit better, but we stayed in and had a quiet (and bland) dinner so we didn't upset his stomach.

Valentine's Day 2014: Today. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had surgery two days ago. They removed a large cyst from one of my ovaries. I'm happy to report the surgery went well, no complications. I have been in a bit more pain than we expected, though. I can't take NSAID pain relievers (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) so that limits the pain killers they can put me on. What they have been giving me just hasn't been cutting it.

But as I sit here on the couch, typing up this recap of our bad Valentine's Days, I can't help but laugh. We may be cursed, but at least we're cursed together. Despite all this terrible luck, at least I always get to write "we". Sure, "we" were often enduring crappy situations, poor health, and fear, but at least we were together. No matter what happens, we always have each other.

So yes, this Valentine's Day also involves another hospital visit (that makes three if you include the cat's visit!). I've been almost completely reliant on Chris to get me up off the couch or the bed. I can't really use my ab muscles at all, and my shoulders are killing me as a result of the laparoscopy. Sometimes if I breathe in too deeply, a get a sharp pain in my ribs that causes me to lose my breath, so then gasp for air, which hurts even worse, causing the cycle to start all over. Each time this has happened, Chris has rushed to my side and just tried to help me calm down so I can breathe normally. It's been rough so far, but Chris has been taking such good care of me. And today is far better than yesterday, and I'm sure tomorrow will be better still.

I know it's not so romantic for him, but it really reminds me how lucky I am every time he helps me to my feet or rubs my sore shoulders or makes me food. I've got such an amazing guy as my Valentine. Last year I was taking care of him, and this year, he's returning the favor. So if we get to spend the rest of our Valentine's Days together, taking care of each other and supporting each other through good times and bad, I guess maybe it's not such a bad curse after all. Maybe this is how we are reminded every year that we have someone in our lives that loves us so selflessly and unconditionally. Maybe we are luckier than I thought ...

But I swear to those stupid little cherubs that if my car gets stolen next year or our house burns down, I'm going to publicly defame St. Valentine and throw Cupid to the wolves. Just sayin'.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

This is the Year

I realize it's a little late to be making a New Year's resolution, but in all fairness, I started this post a month ago and then left it unfinished for weeks. So I was upholding another New Year's tradition of procrastination and broken resolutions. But now I'm back on the wagon. Or saddle?

My resolution is to write more. More specifically, to finish my novel (I always feel like a pompous phony when I call anything I write a novel) by the end of the year. I'm off to an ok start in respect to last year. I wrote three or four times all year. All time low. So having already written twice in the past few weeks is pretty accurately an ok start.

I was talking to my bestie Katie about this resolution because she was hounding me about writing more (absolutely love her for that) and she had a fantastic suggestion. Over the past 17 years of our friendship, Katie and I have exchanged many many many emails. She mentioned one in her Maid of Honor speech at my wedding reception (it was a little PG-13 R-rated so let's not get into it now). The point is, I really enjoy telling her funny stories about the horrifying, scary, ridiculous things that happen to me. She said she goes back and reads them whenever she needs a good laugh and suggested that I write more stuff like that on my blog. It'll be good writing practice and hopefully get my creativity flowing so I write more on my novel, too.

Screw writing about what I've accomplished. Write about the worst parts of my life and make them funny for everyone.

Well, that was her sentiment. I'm paraphrasing. And I don't intend to screw the posts about my house or what I'm up to, but I like the idea of adding in some more funny stories and posts that require me to write creatively. It's what I'm supposedly best at, after all.

But I'll let you be the judge.

Appendix

Have you ever been totally healthy one day and a week later found yourself in the hospital with your stomach sticking out so far you look like you're about five months pregnant?

I have.

No, I wasn't living out the scene from Twilight: Breaking Dawn where Kristen Stewart finds out she's pregnant with a super-fast-growing, half-vampire baby.

And thankfully, it wasn't an Alien-esque moment either. Although at the time the insanity of the situation didn't feel too far off the mark. 

It all started with a stomach ache back in February of 2008. Chris was visiting me at University of Michigan and we had driven back to my parent's house to have dinner with them. Afterward, I wasn't feeling great so we headed back to Ann Arbor. A few hours later, the pain that had been localized behind my belly button was now much lower and on the right side. One phone call with Chris's sister-in-law, a nurse, and we were all pretty sure it was my appendix.

It still wasn't too bad. I think I may have thrown up once or twice and we decided to head over to the student health center. As is expected from all student health centers, they first assumed I was pregnant or had an STD. lol Once they ruled those out, they determined that my white blood cell count was through the roof, further backing up our suspicion that my appendix was staging a coup inside my body.

The count was actually so high that they said they couldn't allow me to leave on my own to get to the emergency room. I had to be taken by ambulance. Keep in mind that the U of M student med center and the U of M hospital are a whole 5 minutes apart. Yeah. Pretty lame.

Chris had to follow the ambulance over in my car. When he lowered the driver's side window to get the parking ticket, he quickly realized that the window wouldn't go back up. Totally stuck down with freezing February air blowing in. Definitely a sign that everything from here on out was going to be a cakewalk and just go so smoothly ...

24 hours later, we're still in that damned emergency room, in a tiny little room with a sheet wall for privacy. Not that I wanted to be left alone. I wanted someone to take action and get that damn appendix out of me. This was the point where I was starting to feel a bit like Ripley (see picture #2 above).

The doctors still hadn't done a CT scan on me, which was the one test that would really confirm that the issue was my appendix. They told me they try to do that as a last measure because they don't want to give anyone a dose of radiation unnecessarily. I can appreciate that. I really can. But when all signs point to one really common and likely scenario, why put off the inevitable? Especially when the longer you wait, the higher the risk of my appendix rupturing.

Which it did.

Before they gave me the CT scan.

Apparently it looked pretty horrifying to see the liquid they make you drink before the CT scan spewing out through my appendix and into the surrounding area. They got their shit together within minutes and had the operating room ready to go.

And then they did two really stupid things. First, a young doctor came over to tell me that since the appendix had ruptured, they were going to have to put a drain in my side.

Here's roughly what was going on inside my head after that:

"You want to do what now? Put a drain in my side? It'll go through my skin and let toxic liquid seep out of my body?

I'm sorry, what the hell does that mean? Am I going to be half human, half metal? Are you going to have to remove or stretch out a huge section of my skin?

How will you stop all my blood from coming out too? Am I going to be like those people with stomas? What the hell is going on? Will I ever be normal again?"

So that's what was running through my brain. I immediately burst into tears and the doctor asked Chris what was wrong with me. Nice bedside manner, jerkwad.

And then a nurse came over and asked me if I had told my parents what was happening yet. Since I had just learned that I was going to be rushed into emergency surgery about two minutes ago, no, I hadn't found the right moment to call them yet.

She dialed my parent's number on the hospital phone and handed it over. And what a surprise, I started crying and completely scared the shit out of my mother. Did I mention it was the middle of the night at this point?

Way to make a bad situation worse, hospital employees.

In case you're wondering, the drain was not metal. I'll spare you the pictures of it inserted into a human, but basically this is what they were talking about:

It's just a small hole that the tube goes in. The big grenade-like thing hangs outside of you (they pin it to your clothes so there's no tugging) and fills with the bad stuff that was released into my system when my appendix exploded.

That's what I woke up to after the surgery. Not as bad as I was imagining. Although I was pretty pissed at the doctor for not explaining it a little better. Just use the words "soft plastic" at very least. Or just say tube. Not DRAIN.

Anyway, I got released from the hospital in the morning and Chris drove me back to the dorm. Window was still stuck down with snow flying in his face. Poor, poor Chris.

A few hours later, we were back in the hospital. I had tried to eat something and it was an unmitigated disaster. Horrible stomach pain and copious amounts of vomiting.The hospital had made another bad judgment call.

The condition is called "ileus" and it means that my intestines had stopped working. They were no longer pushing food through in a normal, healthy manner. They were basically asleep.

So to recap, one organ exploded inside me and another cluster of organs quit on me.

I was admitted back into the hospital and told we would just have to wait for my intestines to "wake up." Until then, no food or water since my body couldn't do anything with either. It was just me, an IV, and late one night there was a nurse and an enema.

For five days I sat in that bed. Waiting. Not eating. Not doing much of anything. Just sitting there, dreaming of donuts and ice cream and everything I couldn't have. My brother drove up and used a crowbar to pull my window back up so at least no one could easily get into the car. That was better than getting flowers for being in the hospital.

And then Chris had to fly to California. We had scheduled job interviews for that week, but obviously I couldn't make it. We had a nice little trip to San Francisco all planned out, which Chris now got to do all by his lonesome.

The world continued without me, and I felt like I was stuck somewhere between life and death. Like I was in a parallel universe, no longer in sync with the rhythm of humanity.

It was weird to go that long without food or water. The IV kept me going, and I never felt hungry. But the days and nights just sort of blended together without meals to mark the passage of time. Eating is such a basic part of life that when you don't do it, you feel less alive. It was a strange time.

The day Chris left for California, he stopped by to say goodbye. I climbed out of bed and crossed the room to hug him. I was about a foot away and farted loudly. Oddly, we both cheered. It was a sign that my body was starting to wake up.

Once I was able to use the restroom I was given some food to try eating. Then I had to wait for that to pass. Finally, I was released from the hospital, this time for good. I spent a couple days at my parent's house before heading back to Ann Arbor.

Eventually, I went back to the doctor's and the drain came out. That may have been the oddest sensation I've ever experienced. Having something pulled from your body, but without any pain. Just a lot of pressure and ... ick factor. lol

Chris and I didn't end up moving to California, so it didn't really matter that I missed the trip, besides his sad day of sightseeing by himself. The lonely phone call made from and In and Out Burger. But I was alive and he had been there for me for all the scariest parts of my ordeal, so for that I was extremely grateful.

The doctor even was nice enough to cut above my tattoo instead of through it, so now my phoenix has a halo. So that's kind of cool. Now that everything is over with, I'm still a little annoyed at U of M hospital for how they handled things, but at least I got a ridiculous story out of it. And now I know that if things aren't going your way, you should probably yell and demand things until you get your way. haha jk ... sort of.

Next week I have to have another surgery, unrelated to this one. I have a cyst on one of my ovaries, and it's the size of a guinea pig. (I tried to come up with the funniest mental image I could in that size range. Would Nerf football have been funnier?) On Monday I thought I was healthy, and on Tuesday I found out I have a huge thing growing inside of me. It's crazy how you can not know something like that.

Once again, I'm feeling a little empathy for Ripley. What a freaking tough chic. Is it weird that she's an inspiration to me? Hmmm... Is it weird that I also just watched all the Alien movies a couple months ago, one after the other?

The good thing is, I'm not in any pain, which is quite different than the appendix debacle. The surgery should be pretty simple and hopefully this time, no ileus to shut down my intestines. And if the cyst does turn out to be a small alien baby or a half-human vampire, well at least I already have the pictures ready for my next blog post.