So, I posted this: Stomach Virus Extravaganza Bonanza 2008.

I spent Monday, dying on the couch, a slow painful but elegant death.

And then on Tuesday I dragged myself to an audition (WHAT? WHY?) and to work (WHO? HUH?) even though I was not yet eating anything except saltines. Tuesday evening I watched Teen Tournament Jeopardy which I never ever did before. Those damn kids are smarter than me. I threw crackers at the television.

On Wednesday, I got my period.

I know, I know. This blog has gone from somewhat entertaining to downright horrendously graphic and menstrual-centered. I DO NOT KNOW WHY. But it’s important and relevant to the story so if you don’t like it, go find something else to read while you’re pretending to do actual work at your pretend job.

So, it is known, to those close to me, that my period has the ability to severely cramp my style. HAAAAAAAAAAA CRAMP! Around the time I was 16, I had my first “episode”, an “episode” which would repeat randomly, without warning from then on. It involves me going white as a sheet, collapsing on the floor, vomiting into the nearest toilet, and moaning in agony on a bathroom floor while knives stab my lower back and a giant repeatedly slams my abdomen with his giant workboot. (Just go with me on this, it is my own interpretation and my own pain and if my giant wears workboots, why do you care?)

After numerous tests at the Special Doctor, the conclusion was that I was simply, “Very Sensitive To Hormones.”

“What does this mean, doctor?” I asked my gynecologist, with as much dignity as I could muster.

“It means that you are forever at the mercy of your uterus,” she said and cackled maniacally, a grating sound that echoed down the hospital corridor.

No, I’m kidding.

It doesn’t really mean anything except my periods suck. Hard.

It also, recently, began to mean this. Let’s give a shout out to period-induced depression, y’all!

So, basically, what’s awesome about me is that not only do I get really bad PMS for two weeks prior to my period, which involves stereotypical crying at Pampers commercials, eating as much sugar as I can find and then falling into a dark deep depression, when my period actually arrives, if I’m still alive and haven’t thrown myself off the Triborough Bridge, I experience one of the following:

A) extreme pain, collapse, vomit, fever, screaming in agony on the bathroom floor, inhibiting daily activity of any kind

or

B) the giant slamming his workboot into my abdomen but me, able to grimace in pain and make my way through the day only slightly dizzy and breathing heavily

The problem is, until it hits, I NEVER KNOW WHICH IT’S GOING TO BE. I could be fine! I could be…not fine!

Guess which one happened on Wednesday?

You be right.

So, let’s do an equation okay? ‘Cuz my dad is a math teacher and he would appreciate it.

IF Laura had a stomach virus with inexplicable lower back pain that continued for days + her period arrives and causes even greater lower back pain plus abdominal pain THEN, she will go to work on Wednesday at 9 am, go downstairs to the Duane Reade at 9:04 am, purchase two heating pads, stick one on her stomach and one on her back (1 + 1 = 2), silently cry in agony at her desk, e-mail her boss at 11 AM to tell her she’s leaving for the day and spend the rest of the day sitting on the couch and/or walking around the apartment breathing through clenched teeth asking her roommate to murder her already.

Thing is: I have prescription pain medication from my doctor in my cabinet.

I have never taken this medication because I do not like taking medication. Also, this medication expired in September of 2007. I can’t stop staring at how weird “medication” looks because I just typed it five times. ANYWAY.

That’s right. I’m that girl. I’m the crunchy granola weirdo that believes that this cramping is somehow the natural way of my body and that taking pain medication interferes with that. I kind of think my body is prepping me for childbirth and that the pain is meant to be endured. To take my Crazy further, in a sick, sick masochistic way, I try to see how long I can go without taking even a Motrin. Usually, I can last all day. I don’t think I’ve taken anything, even an aspirin in almost a year. I honestly can’t remember.

Except Wednesday? I needed the meds. Mama needed the happy pills, was crying out for some relief, ANY RELIEF but the PROBLEM was that the stomach virus killed my insides and left me nauseated forever. I couldn’t take any medication because I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything. After all, pain killers + empty stomach = more nausea. Have I painted an accurate pitiful picture here? I mean, do we all agree that I’m out of my mind?

Good. Because my mom was all, ARE YOU INSANE TAKE THE PILLS WOMAN OR I WILL KILL YOU.

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t eat anything.

So I made it through the day, medication-less, crying and nauseated and doubled over from the waist down with heating pads stuck to my body when I wasn’t in the bathtub, counting the spots of mildew on the shower curtain. But the next day was easier. And yesterday, Friday, I had a full day of eating solid foods including a bagel with tofu creamcheese and it could’ve been the best thing I’ve ever eaten. And my uterus calmed down, as she always does, that ol’ battle axe.

That damn lower back pain only subsided a day or so ago and I’m pretty sure the only reason is because I no longer have my kidneys inside my body. Or at least, they aren’t where they are supposed to be. I think this is okay, especially because kidneys don’t really do anything important and also, I don’t have medical insurance which is always comforting.

So, there you go. I think I’m done with uterus talk for at least six months on this blog.

You’re welcome.