Christmas came early around here yesterday. I got a special little unexpected *gift*. But instead of just spilling the beans, I suppose I owe you a bit of the back drop. (Because why say in three words what I could say in 1,200?)
Monday at the end of the day I wound up on the sofa rather incapacitated. I found that my stomach was a bit *bloated* (I know. You're wondering, "Is nothing too personal for the Internet?" The answer is no.) Since Weight Watchers has switched over to the new points plus system, I've been eating a few more veggies in my day (and yet, I still gain weight... and YES, I'm still on that rant, thankyouverymuch.) so I figured I was experiencing some lingering effects, shall we say. Steve proved himself a loving husband once again by braving the elements and venturing off to the drug store for some Mylanta at 10 pm.
The tablets seemed to help.
Until Wednesday night. I was giving Olivia a shower when that same tightness in my belly returned. And let's just say I don't usually refer to my belly in terms of *tight* on a normal day. I lifted my shirt and looked in the mirror and I most definitely resembled a 5 month pregnant lady. I hope you are reading *not pretty* here. At which point I started to get really worried. I was pretty sure it was some kind of tumor. I began thinking things like, "This is probably going to be my last Christmas with the kids" and "What if I'm hospitalized during the holidays, who will deliver all of those cookies I've been baking?"
You know. The important stuff.
Steve begged me to get up Thursday morning and make an appointment to see the doctor. But you see, I had plans to go to kickboxing, get my hair done and pass out those dang cookies. A visit to the doctor was not on the agenda. But when I woke up yesterday and was still bloated, I figured it was imperative. So after kickboxing and before my hair cut, I went to the doctor.
I no sooner got out the words stomach bloating before my doctor asked me if I was stressed. Well, Sherlock, I've got three little kids, it's Christmas time, I recently recovered from surgery and I lost my mom six months ago. Yes, I might be a touch stressed. He pushed around on my belly, listened to my bowels and declared me: OFFICIALLY AN OLD LADY.
Because now, in addition to a sciatic nerve that flares up and a repaired hernia, I now have Irritable Bowel Syndrome. (IBS if you're in the *innner cirlce*!)
So now I get to drink even more water, keep exercising and take fiber pills. I have to say I was actually giddy over the diagnosis. Since the night before I had myself with a fatal tumor, IBS seemed like a huge upgrade!
Not exactly the gift I was hoping for this year, but I'll take it nonetheless. Merry Chirstmas to me.