And she smiles when she feels like crying

The thing about making bargains with God is this: One must be very specific.
If you read last night’s entry, you’d know that I asked God to wake me up happy. Alas, my lack of foresight meant that I didn’t ask him not to send stomach cramps my way.

So, I did wake up feeling rather happy and my walk at the beach this morning was rather rejuvenating. I used my splendid new phone to take photos of my favourite trees. Now, that made me very, very satisfied.

A little later in the morning, I made a trip to the nearby supermarket to get the ingredients for the pasta I was going to make for some friends for dinner tonight. At the check-out counter, unfortunately, I blacked out from the terrible pain that was slowly spreading across my entire lower abdomen. Miraculously, I paid for my groceries and actually managed to walk home, albeit a little unsteady.

Once I reached my gate, the mayhem started. Things are a little hazy now because I was dead to the world for a while but I think it went something like this: I lay on my bed, felt nauseous, went to the toilet to throw up but couldn’t. My mum was holding me throughout all of this because I couldn’t stand straight. My legs were weak, I was breaking out in cold sweat and was shaking terribly. I had to sit down in the toilet. On the floor. My mum moved me to the chair and I put my head on the table and this is where things got a little strange. My eyes were closed and I felt like I wasn’t there (if you know what I mean) but I could hear my mum calling my name and trying to get me to wake up. I think I scared her pretty badly.

She called up our doctor and told him that we’d be there in a while because when I regained consciousness, I realised that it would probably be best to get some medical help. We walked up the stairs to the lift before I told her that there was no way I could possibly walk to the doctor, although he’s situated just three minutes away. So back home we went.

A few minutes later, I had a surge of energy (from God I guess. Maybe He felt sorry for me?) and decided that walking to the doctor would be better than having to call for an ambulance or something later if things got worse.

We walked. We arrived. The doctor asked me some questions and I must have answered them rather incoherently because his forehead was all scrunched up trying to understand me. He remembered all my million and one NSAID allergies in time (thank goodness because I would have ended up with swollen eyes if he had injected me with any medicine from the NSAID family.) and jabbed (ok, if niceties are to observed, let's call it injected) me with buscopan on the hip. I must have looked pretty shaken up because he offered to drive me home! But my mum said we’d be fine walking. If i had been a tad more alert, i would have accepted the ride home. I guess my mum was just shy.

So we reached home and once again, I lay on my bed, on my new clean sheets. Incredulous as it may seem, that’s what I was thinking about- that I was going to be sick on my clean, pretty, pale blue, checkered sheets. Please, you don’t have to tell me I’m crazy. That fact has been rather well established.

Anyways, after coming home, I:

• Threw up. (Finally)
• Took a ten minute nap.
• Was slightly happy to notice that the pain was subsiding.
• Felt good enough to walk to the living room to catch Oprah.
• Ate some porridge.
• Took stemetil for my dizziness/vomiting and codeine for my pain.
• Trudged back to the room to take another nap with a hot water bottle resting heavily on my abdomen.
• Slept.
• Woke up in pain.
• Felt nauseous.
• Went back to the bathroom.
• Clutched my stomach as i wondered why the blasted codeine AND buscopan jab wasn't working.
• Went back to my room.
• Laid on my bed trying not to cry. For once, realised that crying wasn't going to help.
• Was surprised at my own maturity for two seconds before i curled up into a ball and groaned.
• Tried to go back to sleep.
• Couldn't.
• Suddenly dawned on me that i could try praying. Asked Mother Mary to interceed since i figured she'd be more sympathetic to womanly problems.
• Turns out she is. I fell asleep almost instantaneously.
• Woke up at 4:30pm, just in time to catch Newlyweds.
• Chastised myself for missing The Ashlee Simpson Show which was at 4pm.
• Listened to Nick and Jessica's rendition of O Holy Night and wished it was Christmas.
• Switched off the TV. Continued reading Nicholas Sparks' A bend in the road.

Now, it's evening and i'm thinking about the pasta i didn't make and the blueberry and lemon bread i didn't bake.

However, i'm also realising the absence of fear throughout my entire ordeal. I was in pain, yes. But i wasn't afraid. Not like when i'm having my panic attacks and feel absolutely terrified.

Mental disorders can kill because they mess with your mind and make you believe that you're not good enough, pretty enough, intelligent enough. Brave enough. But you are.

I find this entry to be rather amusing. Almost everything, in retrospect, is.