A Sunday afternoon panic

You wouldn’t know it to look at me. It feels like my insides are being twisted and pulled apart. “She’s not feeling well” says my mother. Understatement. I feel like I’m dying. It’s a loud, aching pain, unable to stand or sit or lie down comfortably. So I pace back and forth in this small room until I am dizzy. I walk around the block, fast, standing up straight, doesn’t help. I swing, doesn’t help. I pace. I’m hot then cold. I press my hands into my stomach, hard. No relief. I take two pills, think to myself, how long to sink in? They don't sink in. I wonder if the pain would be so much worse without them, or if I just wasted two swallows. How many hours of this? 

You wouldn’t know it to look at me. I think I’ll just go camp out In the bathroom.

This is a whole different animal. Whole different kind of pain. Woah.

There needs to be a support group for people with angry uteruses. 24/7 support.

Phewph. At two hours in, the pain meds have apparently either sunk in a bit or the cramps are dissipating. Still a twinge of pain, but not ANYTHING like before.

Thank You Jesus.


...and then the headache hits. and honestly, I'd rather be pacing around feeling like my insides are being ripped out than headaches.