I don't usually do those because, you know, I figure that you were probably bored enough the first time. Besides, this week, I haven't written about anything aside from a few braggy media posts. And seriously, nobody likes those except the blogger. And if I were to share any comments that I received, they would just be braggy ones and, all together now, nobody likes those except the blogger. You got it.
So in my Weekly Un-Wrap Up, I'll just tell how craptastic my week was.
Ladies and gentlemen, please join me on a journey filled with vomit and public humiliation. I'll slowly un-wrap and peel back the layers of my week, and just like an onion, they'll stink and cause involuntary tears.
Over the weekend, I started having some weird post-surgery pain. Oh, it's probably nothing. Besides, I've got some laundry to do.
But on Monday, I started pouring blood. Funny thing is, at first, I reacted the same way that you do when "Aunt Flo comes to visit", but then I remembered that I don't have those organs anymore. Needless to say, I'm a slow learner.
I went to the oncologist on Tuesday morning to have it checked out. My Mom offered to drive me, but since I had to leave the house before the roosters got up, I told her not to worry about it.
I had some issues with my vaginal cuff (TMI ALERT!) (too late), which formed a hematoma and some smaller clots. My doctor removed those in the office.
Hey, doesn't it sound simple and easy when I say, "my doctor removed those in the office"? It wasn't. But it wasn't that bad either, because now I'm a pro at getting violated and tolerating pain, y'all! I don't even bother with pain meds anymore. I just breathe like a first time mom at Lamaze class.
I walked out of the oncologist's office feeling fine, great, normal. But - oh, I don't know - somewhere around 10 miles away, something happened. I felt a rush of pain like a crashing tide. And I'm not talking a normal Panama City tide either; I'm talking about a tsunami tide, like the one that Patrick Swayze surfed in the movie Point Break.
I started feeling dizzy and wondered if I should pull over. When I couldn't remember if I-75 was the way home, I called my Mom, told her that she was right, and asked if she could come get me. I figured that it was a bad sign when I got lost on the interstate that I've traveled on 1,000,000+ times in my life (it's the way to the mall). I spent the rest of the day lying in bed and trying not to bleed to death.
Thanks to Leeann posting a comment on my blog (Thanks, girl!), I knew that The Bert Show on Q100 FM was going to be talking about my "20 Things" list the next morning, so I set my alarm to wake up and listen. I was awake no more than 3 minutes when the producer called me. Three minutes after that, we were live on the air. I think I finally woke up about halfway through the segment.
P.S. Emailing your phone number to the producer at midnight just in case is always a good idea, bloggers. WRITE THAT ONE DOWN.
My friend Jennifer posted this on my Facebook wall afterward.
Jennifer,
1. My Mom got onto me about the cheerleading thing, too, because of course cheerleading is a sport! But I was talking about when I was really little and learning teamwork for the first time. I didn't start cheerleading until 8th grade. When I was four or five, a round ball was just something that I tried to put into a square hole, but I guess that goes without saying.
2. I'm not intelligent. I just talk really fast. And I was a babbling idiot. My hands were shaking so bad; let's just say that if I had a "Shake it to make it" nearby, we would've all had ice cream for a month.
Want proof? Go back and listen to the very end of the conversation on The Bert Show's page HERE. Notice when I said, "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it", and then Bert said something back, and then it sounded like my cell phone was breaking up really bad, and then I said "bye"? Well, my cell phone signal was perfect. Ahem.
That was me stuttering over my words. Awesome. I was fumbling so bad that you couldn't even tell I was speaking English.
The obvious upside to this newly discovered talent is that now I know how to get rid of annoying telemarketers. I'm sorry, you're selling what? Oh, I bibehreo a he8uoiurh a hfoiud;a g hgoia;g eh oiag...
When I hung up the phone, I was so upset about my stutter-fluster. But when I listened to it, I was all like, 'Hey, I can totally blame that on my cell phone! Yes!'
Cheat to win, people. Cheat to win.
I'm still having those same medical problems, so I'm going back to the oncologist this afternoon at 1:30. Planning ahead, I'm bringing my Mom, a Tylenol and a dozen doughnuts. If that doesn't numb the pain, nothing will.
Tune in tomorrow for The Weekly Un-Wrap Up: Part Deux!
Yes, I know that one is in Spanish and two is in French, but since that's pretty much the extent of my foreign language knowledge, I thought it might impress you. Tri-lingual? Of course, for the sake of full disclosure, I should admit that I had to google both of them for spelling and accuracy first. So yeah, I probably should've just stuck with "one" and "two"... or whatever hot mess sounds I made when I said goodbye to The Bert Show.
I don't mean to give anything away here, but Part Deux involves why a stomach virus is just like bar hopping and how my Mom busted me and my husband making out, kinda sorta. There, I've said too much.
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