The Pit of Intestinal Despair

Yesterday started out pretty good, but it wound up pretty miserable for a number of reasons. It was supposed to be great---my brother had driven up from Kansas to interview for a summer internship (making him yet another potential roommate), Jacob was coming home after 10 days on the road, and David and I made Kahlua cake...and maybe had a drink in the middle of the day (I'm a horrible influence; David never drank anything before he met me). Like I said, it was supposed to be awesome.
Then, at 3 PM, I felt a horrifyingly familiar sensation. It's as if a medieval mace is being passed through my digestive tract. Everything tensed up, then it just exploded into one of the worst episodes I've ever endured. The worst part? Jacob wasn't there, and David had to fill in. I try not to suffer in front of others; it's extremely uncomfortable for everyone. I almost asked him to take me to the hospital (which really would have been for the availability of morphine, and I don't need another hospital bill). It just sucked. Fortunately, my brother was not around. That would have just been worse; we don't really do feelings, and it's never good to see your sister at her worst. Overall it was a bad situation.
I did not undergo an incredibly expensive surgery and painful recovery just to go back to the way things were. I'm irate. I am seething with anger. Why is this still happening? Didn't they remove that cyst? Didn't they get enough of that crap out? I mean, what else is wrong with me? Isn't endometriosis and infertility enough? What didn't they catch? I have a tremendous fear of bowel obstructions (don't ask why; I just do), and it's becoming less and less of an irrational fear. Can I please just be normal and healthy? Please?
Also, David, my live-in housekeeper/ roommate/ adopted adult son, has been going through absolute misery in the last two days. His ex moved away this morning. Six hours away. To a new guy (whom I can't say I like and has not made this process any easier) and a new job. It's crushing his poor heart. Last night was especially hard because he came to say goodbye to David ( and to me as well; I tend to mother him just like every other young adult and will no doubt miss him). Needless to say there were tears and sadness, which was oddly accompanied by beer and laughter, as my brother Jacob and my husband Jacob are pretty good friends and supplied me with a pretty welcomed break from being the emotionally stable one (not to say that I minded or anything, it was just a lot for my body to take yesterday)... It's just incredibly hard to know that someone you love is hurting and you can do nothing to help. If I knew it would make a difference, I would volunteer to have an intestinal attack (I mean, only if I knew it would make a difference). I hate seeing my friends in pain. Hearts are such fragile and vulnerable things, and it's an tremendous effort to attempt to heal one.

HOLY LIQUOR CAKE

Did I mention that I was also pretty hopped up on Codeine all night? That happened too.  I was in a lot of pain, and typically, would have spent the evening in bed, but circumstances refused to allow it. I didn't get to bed until pretty late, and I even needed a two hour nap today.  My body is getting to the point where I need a few days to recover from things like this. My insides feel like they just participated in a colonoscopy triathlon.  Fortunately, rehearsal was cancelled last night, and I don't have to worry about it until Monday. Good. I need the recovery time. I'm finally to a point where I can stand upright again, so I count that as a major success.

Throughout all of it, however, I actually managed to keep my house clean. WHA?????? I absolutely did. Clean. Even despite eating an extremely saturated Kahlua cake.

 I am going to make it a goal to become proficient at being an adult, chronic pain or not. We'll see how that plays out.