1) This week was really not all that interesting.
2) I really should come up with some New Year's resolutions.
3) My stomach is angry with me. Still.
The biggest thing that happened this week: we went to a big mom's-side-of-the-family Christmas gathering. How was it? Eh. There was a lot of talking and awkward pauses because nobody's seen each other in a year. "How are you? How's school? What year are you again?....Um, I ran out of questions. My bad." I texted Lisa about it and she suggested I tell everyone I was pregnant just to get a conversation going, but I figured that wouldn't be very productive.
A big perk, however, was getting The Hunger Games trilogy for my one-family-member-buys-you-something gift. I spent the next 3 1/2 days locked in those books. Any moment one of the books wasn't in my hands, I was nervous and all my thoughts were being narrated in the writing style of the book. When I finished, I had to stare at a wall for a few minutes and then watch a mindless movie. Two days later, I am still thinking about them, dreaming about them, and living in paranoia--well, only sort of. They were AWESOME.
I do have one New Year's resolution, actually: get rid of the alien implants. Yes, over a month and they still won't leave. Rather than me hating someone else's guts, my guts hate me. I thought I was getting better again until Wednesday, when suddenly my innards were on fire and my belly was saying FEED ME and I HATE FOOD at the same time. What a dandy day to go on a 3-hour car ride home. When I got there, I finally put my foot down and said, "Dr. Dad, I need some more meds. Alien meds." <--not my exact words.
The theory is that, hiding in the walls of my belly, I may have a lovely bacteria called H. Pylori, also known as Helicobacter Pylori, which sounds like "Helicopter Pie". Left untreated, this can be--gross. So, yesterday I got medicine for this thing that I might have. Guess what the medicine does? Makes me feel worse. HOORAY! I went to bed last night (after ditching my friends on New Year's) hoping it would go away. Nope, at 5 this morning, my dog heard thunder, had a panic attack, and woke me up. A few minutes later, my belly thought it was time to join in the fun and it tried to run out to fight the thunder while all it really ran into was all of my other innards, who were not pleased. I knew one of the pills was the culprit--but which?
Fast forward this afternoon, an hour or so after I took one of the pills, my stomach felt like it was in the clutches of a dragon. Actually, I imagined it looking like it was stuck in the claw of one of those arcade machines. (and then I immediately imagined all the little green aliens from Toy Story inside of me as well, going "Ooo, The CLAW!") At the time, we were also at my grandmother's house and she had requested that I help her finish cooking lunch, so, screaming stomach or not, I had to comply.
Fast forward to now. I think I have discovered which pill does what. One tastes like fish and garbage and makes me somewhat nauseous. The other is THE CLAW. I think. I hope I'm right and that a switch in the medicine makes THE CLAW stop--though I'd still have to take the garbage pill. And that, when the 14 days of pills are over, the helicopter pie diagnosis will be correct, meaning that the little aliens will be dead.
Then I can drink coffee and eat whatever I want.
Sadly, after a month of eating less because of my angry innards, I have not lost a pound. I suppose this means I'll actually have to exercise after all!
My belly wants to go to bed now so that when it wakes up before the sun tomorrow morning, it will have at least gotten some sleep.
Lack of good food turns me into Negative Nancy.
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