The Ordeal or The Trip When I Was an Idiot.

Okay, the ordeal, I promised I would talk about it so I will, but don't blame me if you wish you didn't know after you read this.

It started last Sunday night. I began to feel a bit icky in a certain area which shall go unnamed for the sake of everyone involved. Now have I ever mentioned that I hate doctors, I mean really hate them. And hospitals. And clinics. And anything biomedical at all, except for the academic part, that I like (since it was my major and all) but if it is anything more hands-on than a textbook, I say it is bad, bad, bad. So, do I use my last day in town to make an appointment and get some drugs so that I am okay for my trip across the country?

No, I convince myself that I will be fine. My mom tells me I should go to the doctor. My husband tells me I should go to the doctor. I tell myself, "Oh, I think I am already feeling better on my own."

Flash forward to Tuesday, our first day of traveling. By now, I'm really not feeling very good and spend most of the day sleeping to escape the uncomfortableness. By Tuesday night, the only time I am not in excruciating pain is when my pee is neon orange for those of you who know what that means. Oh, it was not good. Not good at all.

Wednesday morning we go searching for my insurance card, hoping to find a clinic somewhere nearby. We can't find it. It should be in my purse, but it isn't there! My sweet husband opens up the "U-haul" and searches through box after box, eventually finding my insurance manual so I am able to call and get my information.

We find a urgent care clinic and look up directions. And it is sorta on the way. It looks like things are going to be okay but now there is a problem with the trailer. We had taken the car off the tow thingamabob and somehow it got all out of whack. So Craig calls the company, hoping for some verbal help and a quick fix but no, they want to send someone out to the hotel to fix it. Someone who should arrive "within an hour."

Meanwhile, the clock is ticking and our hope of leaving at 8:30 is long gone. I was so desperate. All I wanted was to feel better and be on my way. And you know you must be in a desperate situation when your biggest wish is to be in Amarillo!

But we regroup and I leave with the car to find the clinic, crossing my fingers that when the Penske guy comes he can fix the truck without having the car. I finish my appointment, which apparently I got just in time as I was now, according to the doctor, "spilling glucose." So, I guess I should have gone to the doctor on Monday :-)

We meet at Wal-mart where I can pick up my antibiotics and Craig loads up the car on the now fixed truck. At 11:45am we finally start our day of driving. Our 9+ hours of driving! It was one very long day.

My one consolation is that I have heard from more than one person that this particular illness is often more painful than even childbirth. The amount of pain supposedly involved in childbirth kinda scares the heck outta me so this is actually a comforting thought as I made it through this. And by "make it through" I mean I didn't die although I did spend the whole time testing Craig's ability to be sympathetic and not say "I told you so" with my loud cries of pain. But that is entirely beside the point.