I’ve been in bed or on the couch all day yesterday, and all day today. And I definitely don’t look like that picture over there. 
My hair is every which way and my makeup is all smeared from taking 4-5 steaming hot baths, crying, and vomiting.
That’s what I get for saying I want to go hiking one of these days. Whenever I mention hiking, I get an attack. Every. Single. Time.
To recap my life since January 9:
ER doc: “We think you need to have your gallbladder removed.”
Doc A: “I don’t think it’s your gallbladder. Let’s leave it where it is. Come back for a colonoscopy/EGD and if we don’t find anything there, we’ll do another ultrasound and MRCP…..Kidding. Instead, I’m going to send you a letter saying, ‘If you need another colonoscopy, call me in 7 years.’ ”
Doc B: “You have pericarditis, your ovaries are not happy (particularly your left one), your kidneys are not happy, and you don’t look so happy at this point.” I’m not going to argue with her, that’s for sure. This has been pure hell.
Going to see Doc C (which is replacing Doc A because I need to have someone behind me 100 percent) in an hour.
While I’m sleeping my life away and waiting for answers, I’m doing everything in my power not to lose my characteristic optimistic attitude.
