Calling in Sick

So, for the second time in nearly four years, I have called in sick to work.

I did so at 4:17am this morning.

Because I woke up at 3:58am in the worst pain I have ever been in.  Ever.  (And it's tied for first place - this has happened to me once before.)

Now, before you go thinking I'm a giant pussy, let me tell you that I have a fairly high pain tolerance.  I regularly smash my feet into things and don't notice I've done it until I notice bloody footprints on the floor.

My mother was helping me re-pierce an ear the other day with an old, thick safety pin, and she was going SO slowly because she was scared of doing it... And she stopped every two seconds to say, "Am I hurting you?  You have to TELL me because you don't react!"

And those are just the daily things.

I once broke my ankle.  When I was 10 years old.  And I walked on it.  For three days.  

*rocks*

So.  Yes.  I have a high pain tolerance.

And this pain?  It's the most intense, exquisite, mind-searing, fully-paralyzing pain I have ever felt. Abdominal pain.  Lower right quadrant.  Not appendicitis.  Most likely an ovarian cyst rupturing.  Most likely I REALLY need this checked out.  But, I hate doctors and I'm afraid to go because I am too fat, so I just wait to die.

In fact, the first time it happened, since I was alone and unable to move, I lay there wondering what people would think when they found my body.  I was absolutely positive I was going to die.

And it happened again this morning.

My poor roommate heard me, as I was on the phone at 4:17am (it took me nearly 20 minutes to be able to get out of bed and get to my phone), telling the on-call administrator that I wasn't going to be at work today and that I may need to go to the hospital.

So my roommate got up, and tried to take me to the E.R.  I scolded her.  She pointed out that I was breathing like I was in labor and there were tears trickling down my face, but I wasn't crying.

I continued scolding.  And refused to go.

(She told me later I was whispering to her the whole time.  I don't remember this, I swear I was talking normally.)

Two hours later, the pain was gone, and I was completely drained and almost dead.

Speaking of dead, I caved to my roommate's intense threats and actually called my doctor.  Who, it turns out, up and fucking died nine months ago. 

Whoopsie!

I won't be going to see a doctor.  At least not now.  Maybe if I lose some more weight.

Speaking of which, I got my first, "You're losing weight" statement in a while.  I have previously gotten a few of the "Are you losing weight?" questions... But a couple days ago was the first time I was simply told I WAS losing weight.

I don't like that.  I don't like people noticing.  I don't like them saying anything.  It just makes me feel fat.