This post is brought to you via the Mercy Womens Hospital...

Please excuse the following post, it has been induced by morphine euphoria, and written entirely on my phone. So Tuesday morning (2nd June) I woke up vomiting blood. Not a great deal of blood, but no matter what angle I turned the bucket, it still remained the same. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the stuff that is supposed to be INSIDE you, not outside? Anyway, I stubbornly told myself that it was an anomaly, and tried to go back to sleep. I would have succeeded too if not for the niggling pain in my mid section. I kept vomiting bits of blood all that day so I made a docs appointment for the next morning. Not expecting anything major, I dropped Tomika at school and went to my appointment. After a VERY uncomfortable and embarrassing visit where he checked out EVERY possible orifice, he blandly said, "Well I don't know what's wrong, but I do know that vomiting blood isn't a good thing so I'm going to send you off to hospital. I'm calling the ambulance now, do you have your wallet and ID on you?" Whoa. Okay... Umm, Doc? Did you say hospital? Apparently he did, because here I am, and have been since Wednesday afternoon (3rd June). I have been poked, prodded and pricked, and not in a good way either! The upside is that I'm on morphine and another drug that does magical things to the walls and apparently creates unicorns out of horse paintings, skipping rope Jesus out of the obligatory crucified Jesus, and turns my young Doctor into an illegally cute McDreamy. The downside is that after a full 20 hours of, "So where does it hurt again? Here and here? That's okay, we can get the janitor to scrape you off the ceiling... Again." they finally told me I have a burst cyst on my left ovary, and I probably have to have an operation to remove it before it poisons me. Fun times. Did I mention the morphine?