Yick

I've mumbled this word several dozen times this morning.

I'm home today sick. I went to church with all the best intentions, and left in the middle of sacrament meeting because I couldn't sit up straight. I decided that it was likely that Olivia would nap along with me, so Steven strapped her back into her car seat and the little lady and I left.

Beads of sweat were forming on my brow, and I couldn't keep my eyes open, it was making me nauseated; all due to some pain. I pulled over once thinking I don't want this mess in my car, but nothing happened. I drove about 22 mph (something VERY hard for me) all to avoid jarring my body or using any unnecessary muscles when I turned corners.

I have endometriosis. It's a plaguing little thing that gives me grief every, oh, I don't know, 28 days or so. I can't function when I'm in this much pain. All I can compare it to is child labor except it lasts for about two hours instead of on again off again for 4-5 hours (until I get an epidural). I'm not sure which is worse. Wait, I can tell you what it worse: when you can't have your drug of choice (ibuprofen) because 8 years ago, your body decided that it was allergic to it. I'd take an epidural every month, but I can' find an anesthesiologist that will comply.

Olivia is not cooperating as I had hoped, so I'm braking a family rule and watching my tivo'ed episode of Project Runway (shhh, don't tell). It's definitely making me feel better.

Thanks, Stacey, for teaching my little ones in nursery! I owe you.