Last Friday, I got home a wee bit early and promptly devoured the food I had in my fridge. Yes, it was probably a bit much, but it was turkey nachos, with black beans, 3 kinds of peppers, tomatoes, and cheese. Not completely terrible, but my stomach hurt a bit afterward. I took a walk and didn’t eat anything else that night.
Saturday, my stomach still hurt. More specifically, my lower left abdomen hurt. It was odd. It didn’t feel like gas or indigestion. It didn’t feel like diverticulitis. I still had an appetite. I wasn’t having any issues in the evacuation areas, if you know what I mean, but every now & then, I’d have this pain. I didn’t let it stop me from enjoying my weekend. I went to late lunch/early dinner with The Becky, went to Cathryn’s 50th birthday party. On Sunday, same thing, but I went to see Lindsay play at Java Joe’s. Monday, same.
Tuesday, I started feeling depressed. Like I haven’t in a while. That continued somewhat into Wednesday, but not as much. Wednesday is a work from home day, so that was good. Both days, I tried to stay positive, but man, when that wave crashes over you, it’s very difficult to kick up to the surface. The stomach pain was still there, but there was no way to pinpoint it, make it flare up, or otherwise. I felt a bit bloated, but again, I hadn’t changed how or what I was eating. I had been walking, probably averaging about 3 miles a day this week. Sometimes the pain came on my walks that almost made me double over, but otherwise, things were okay. My bathroom habits were still also fine (though my toilet was having issues, which is another story).
This morning, before my shower, per my usual routine, I weighed myself and I was up 5 lbs from the week before. That seemed crazy to me. I worried about it during my shower, really took stock of how I was feeling, how my clothes were fitting. I googled the stomach pain combined with sudden weight gain, and I got more worried. (The amount of worst case scenarios that spooled out in my head are too numerous to even list).
I called the doctor when I got to work and they could get me in this morning. I almost put it off, but honestly, I thought of Dad, and went in. I explained everything to my doctor – the stomach pain, the depression, the weight. She seemed stumped. She got me on the table and started poking my stomach, it all felt tender and tears sprang up, especially when she got to the lower left side. The tears were more from worry about what was going on. Anyway, she said that everything seemed to be presenting as diverticulitis. That the weight gain was water retention. She bypassed the depression, which, for me, is probably fine. I wasn’t prepared to dive into that. I had already peed in a cup, so then I went to the lab to give blood. She prescribed antibiotics and told me to come back on Monday.
I got in my car afterward and burst into tears. I think the pain, depression, grief, this damn diagnosis was all just too much for me. There’s other stuff, too. Family issues, world issues, work issues. But given everything, I thought I was doing so well. I’ve been working on all these poems about Dad. I just got back from an amazing overseas trip. I had lost 20 lbs between Feb 2017 and 2018, and although I was in a holding pattern weight-wise, I felt good. And then, boom. It all kind of crashes down. And now I feel like I’m in a hole again or that the wave is slowly approaching.