The Best Laid Plans

I started preparing for Easter dinner on Thursday. I ironed my tablecloths, and chose my color theme (white and green for new life). I added a few eggs to the all-season tree. I set up my serving tables with my fun mismatched china, and stood my forks and knives in old coffee pots, for easy grabbing.

The Captain took Friday off from work. It was great to have the extra help, and we did all of our Saturday chores one day early. We had free time in the evening, so we went shopping together for our upcoming trips. Well, not exactly together. He dropped me off at the mall, and then he went to a new, giant hockey store that just opened. The Captain is traveling to Montreal next week to play in a hockey tournament while I am at the writer's conference. He needed a new stick, and I needed new shoes.

As I browsed, I noticed that my mild stomach pains from earlier in the day were growing stronger and more persistent. We left and went home so I could lie down. I went to bed early, and felt relatively fine the next morning. I got all my grocery shopping done, and continued with the Easter fun. The little boys and I dyed eggs. I had the older boys fill the plastic kind with treats for the egg hunt. I mopped the floor. My stomach pains returned, with a vengeance.

This morning I decided to go to the hospital. Although I've experienced these pains before (often, actually), I am usually better by day three of an attack. This time I was worse. I couldn't remain upright for any amount of time. The waves of pain had become constant. I realized I wasn't going to get any better on my own.

The Captain drove me, and stayed while we waited for the tests to commence, which was no small feat, because he was nursing a migraine. My in-laws called the family to cancel the festivities, and handled everyone at home, which included driving Two to a gig as the Easter Bunny. I got an ultrasound, and prepared for a CAT scan by drinking a quart of vile tasting liquid. That was the worst part of the whole day, until the dye injection. I'm a little bit of a wimp. All I kept thinking was, even if it's my gall bladder, they can't yank that sucker until next week, after my conference.

It's not my gall bladder, or anything else they can see. So, now I have to go to a specialist, and do different tests. The doctor was very kind, and gave me medication. I went home and laid on the couch. The Captain and the in-laws whipped up an alternative Easter dinner for our family unit, and we decided to save my pretty tables and the giant ham for mother's day. The Captain is still battling his migraine, and Boy Four now has stomach pain, similar to Five's from last week. When we fail, we like to do it spectacularly.

Pass me the Vicodin; I'm going back to sleep.