Welp.

I love Technicolor Boy's bed. Pull your mind out of the gutter; I am referring to the piece of furniture itself. His sheets are wine-colored and satiny and he somehow has the cushiest mattress ever, so I always try to sleep on it as much as I can whenever I'm spending time at his house. Plus, he's got a bunch of Nightmare Before Christmas and Bleach throw pillows, along with a down comforter. Add on the fact that his cat likes to snuggle, and you've got sleeping heaven.

So, I was taking a nap in Technicolor Boy's bed while he and his roommates played Skyrim downstairs. We were all planning on seeing a late showing of The Expendables 2, so I was trying to catch some Z's before we went on our late night movie adventure.

I woke up in a pool of my own blood feeling like I had been stabbed in the lower abdomen. My first thought was, "oh fuck, the sheets!" My second thought was, "oh FUCK." I immediately ran to the bathroom and looked at my tear ducts, nostrils, and ear canals to check for blood. In my recently-woken stupor, I legitimately thought that I had hemorrhaged or something.

I ran downstairs and informed Technicolor Boy that I had gotten blood all over his sheets and his clothes (which I was wearing to sleep in) and then got in my car and drove straight to the emergency room, still wearing his shorts and t-shirt.

I then kicked it in my little ER cubicle thing with an IV in my arm for a good four and a half hours while doctors ran tests and gave me narcotics and called my parents and made sure I hadn't gotten brutally raped or something. After about the first hour, it was sooooo boring! I mean, I know it was a Saturday night, and I felt bad for being there because I'm sure the doctors had bigger fish to fry than me, but seriously. Four and a half hours of half lying down in an awkward hospital bed with a tube in my arm.

I was allowed to bring my phone in with me, but I had no 4G or WiFi connection, and I'm not really an app person, so I had like four games to choose from and then photo-editing apps. I spent half the time taking pictures of the IV in my arm and of my cute little hospital socks. (With my little size four feet, the socks went all the way up past my ankles. Cozy!)

After gratuitous tests, blood-draws, an incredibly awkward pelvic exam, and having to explain to four doctors that yes, I am sexually active, but no, I do not have any STDs or STIs, I was finally informed that I was not, in fact, bleeding out or dying.

I had a "severe early-term miscarriage" at almost seven weeks of pregnancy. Basically, my uterus went kamikaze on itself.

I was prescribed some Vicodin and some anti-nausea medication and then discharged.

Welp.
That's a relief, I suppose.



Julia