About 9 am Sunday morning, I conceded defeat and carefully rolled my weary body out of bed. All night I'd prayed for relief. Prayed for sleep. Prayed the pain didn't mean something more serious. I calculated how long it had been since my last trip to the bathroom. Had I gained a whole hour of dozing sleep? The most all night. No need to take stock of my current condition. I knew. I'd probably known Friday afternoon when it all began.
Another trip to the bathroom, though there was nothing left in me to give.
I stumbled to the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. Twenty minutes later, a friend pulled up to my door and took me up on my resignation to medical care.
The neighborhood Urgent Care was empty, thank God. If I hadn't been so ill, I might have marveled over the newness of the place. 34 years old and I'd never gone to Urgent Care before. This was an unfortunate new era.
I'm talking about more than vomit over at A Deeper Story. (This post was actually up yesterday.) Head on over to read the rest. I'd love to hear how you relate to your body.
Fingers crossed I'll have type Five up for the Enneagram and Blogging series tomorrow. Thank you for your patience!