Within hours of putting up my last post, I was in the hospital. You can’t make this stuff up, people.

It started with a dull ache on my lower right side and ended with sharp pain in the same spot that spread across my belly. I went to the ER thinking that I had an appendicitis or kidney stone and ended up being admitted so that I could prep for a colonoscopy. Yippee!

Everything you’ve ever heard about a colonscopy is true. The prep is the worst part, but what no one tells you is that IT’S NOT THAT BAD. I drink an entire bottle of Miralax powder mixed into frozen Gatorade and thanks to the Dilaudid I was on, I thought I was drinking a slushie.

Of course, that didn’t work because my bowels? They are stubborn. So at 4:00am I drank Golytely (pronounced, Go Lightly, because someone has a sick sense of humor) mixed with iced-down Shasta. At this point I had been up for 48 hours, was hopped up on pain meds and was very thirsty. Golytely went down (and out) without a problem. You’re welcome.

The colonscopy itself? Who cares! After Versed and Demorol you’ll look like this when they wheel you in.

What is that thing hanging from the ceiling? You’re going to put that in my innards? Okay!

Another thing no one tells you (and this could be because they’re too embarrassed, but I’ve already said, “innards” so I obviously have no shame) is that you will have intestines full of air when you are done. My step-mom told me I’d be gassy, but that term doesn’t really do it justice. I’ll just say that I’m glad I didn’t have a roommate, or visitors, and that my husband is, quite possibly, the most understanding man on the planet (who, for the record, canceled a THIRD trip out of town because of MY medical emergencies) (he wins for best husband).

All in all, the colonoscopy wasn’t the horrible experience people seem to think it is. I even got to hallucinate a little bit!

My pain was diagnosed as an inflammatory bowel flare-up. I don’t have Crohn’s, or cancer, or anything awful. The doctor said it was likely brought on by stress and told me to start meditating, and breathing, and stop clenching my teeth. I said, “Give me more Dilaudid and we’ll talk.”

So, I have a counter full of new medicines to take (for now) and I was cleared for travel to New York in a couple of days.

And now? Katie Couric and I totally have something to talk about.

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So, you know how you have sewage come up through the utility sink in your basement and the plumber tells you it will be $300 to fix, but that you also need two more hours of work on the problem at $305 per hour, and then you get a $500 cardiology bill for your son, and two weeks later your husband goes for a sleep study and finds out that he stops breathing so often that he’s lucky he isn’t dead, and you’re so relieved he went for the study until you get the $1800 bill, and then the same day the check engine light comes on in your 15 year old car, and then the glass falls out of your back door and shatters everywhere so that you have to put cardboard up and your house looks like The Beverly Hillbillies live there, and then your son goes to the dentist and they tell you that he HAS to see an orthodontist immediately because his roots have no room and are deteriorating, and then you get pink eye, and then you get a bill from the IRS for THOUSANDS of dollars for something you didn’t know about from 2008, and then a car pulls up in front of your house and an elderly woman gets out, walks up your driveway, knocks on your door, hands you this, then gets back in the car and it pulls away…not stopping at ANY OTHER HOUSE?

Yeah, me too.

Who wants to get in a plane with me next week?

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I am somewhere buried in a spreadsheet (or three) (okay, five), having brief breakdowns and not cleaning my house. If not for my mom, I doubt my kids would still be getting fed.

I, however, am a stress eater so I have been sustaining myself on bags of chips and cereal straight from the box. It’s not unusual, lately, for me to work well into the morning hours then sleep a few, only to get up and do it again. It’s like I’m a medical resident, only without the stethoscope.

This is my busy time. Like, walk-around-saying-there-aren’t-enough-hours-in-the-day-and-REALLY-MEANING-IT busy. Like, I’ve-seriously-considered-a-catheter busy.

Why would anyone beat themselves up like this? I do it because I love my job. I love what I do, with whom I do it and for whom I do it. I am passionate about what the internet can do for people. I know a lot of people scratch their heads and wonder why I work so much, but I scratch my head and wonder how they work at jobs they hate.

So, if you’ve emailed me, called me, or knocked on my door, there’s a reason why I haven’t answered. In a couple of weeks, things will calm down a little bit.

Until then, pass the chips.

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I don’t care who you are, or if your kid is just having minor surgery, this moment right here? Never gets any easier.

Tube surgery 7/17. He’s fine. We were at the hospital because of his congenital heart disease and oxygen saturations which hover around the “I don’t know if he’s turning blue or if he just ate a snow-cone” level.

This shout out goes to all of the kids who had surgery yesterday and didn’t get to come home and sleep in their own bed.

Do me a favor, hug your kids.

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