Oh man. I’ve been busy.

Alright, first there’s been everything I’ve been doing in my personal life which has seen me running all over creation, writing like a fiend, and spending literal days away from the Internets (I can hardly believe it myself.) I’ve had three Very Big projects going on that I’ve been juggling in my enthusiasm to hurl myself into them before I talk myself out of it [as I'm so freaking apt to do] that have been initiated/resumed when I’m not attending to Rather Small projects like taking Chloe in for a checkup and then taking her back because they didn’t want to give her her immunizations so soon after she’d had a fever. Or running myself to three different doctors in a week (all of them either mental or dental-related). Or writing about 5 different letters to people across the globe I haven’t written to in over a year. Or doing laundry, dishes, meal preparation and general housewifery for three people. And then somehow I’ve managed to have a decent amount of cuddle time with the hubs and once, we actually got out of the house and went out in public. On a weekend! Like grown-ups! (Btw, we saw “Sunshine Cleaning” which is easily the best movie I’ve seen in over a year. Highly recommended.)

And then I’ve been kept up almost every other night with stabby stomach pains worse than anything I’ve ever experienced short of labor. They’re weird in that they’re totally centralized to my upper abdomen and they don’t have any.. um… physical manifestations? (I’m not hovering over the potty all night) but they cause me to writhe around, break into atrocious sweats and have to sleep in perhaps the most absurd positions imaginable. I visited a family physician yesterday who told me my blood tests showed nothing, to take some drug named AciPhex (when said out loud, it sounds like “Ass Affects”. This has been fodder for much juvenile giggling.) and to come back to “check in” in two weeks. So this morning (Easter) when I wake up bright and early with The Pains having returned in even worse temper than before (which I absolutely believed was not possible.) I turn to my poor, sleepless husband and declare that I cannot take it anymore and have to go to the hospital or I will die and he’ll have to clean it up and that would be traumatic.

So, yes, I spent Easter morning not being around my family and dressing my little girl in something pastel and adorable, but crying from The Pains while being stabbed with needles, felt up for various organ attendance, and shuffled across Creation in a hospital gown, dragging an IV with me, to have X-Rays taken of my abdomen.

:::sigh:::

(For the record, my diagnosis is not so hot at the moment, but I’m getting a second opinion with a specialist before I go into Holy Royal Freak-Out mode. Nnnnooot what I’d had planned for this spring.)