Not even a little like Seattle Grace

(This post brought to you by Demerol, Valium, and Protonix.)

So. . . On Monday it was really hard to swallow anything that wasn't really chewed.
Then, on Tuesday, my stomach started to feel like someone kicked me in the gut.
Then, on Wednesday I went to the doctor.

I ended up at two different doctors (one for a consult and another for x-rays).
That got me nowhere.

So, I ended up spending 7+ hours in the emergency room having a variety of strange tests (including one that required me to consume 84 oz. of liquid--the only thing resembling food or water I had in more than 24 hours). I cried a lot.

Then, they told me I had something wrong with my pancreas. Pancreatistis--I think. Which I Googled today. I hope that is not truly what I have, as it sounds way serious and long-term.

Then, on Thursday, I had to go back to be put under so a camera could be shoved down my throat. This was the part I was freaked about the most, but it was actually the best part. I got like two hours of fabulous sleep and don't remember anything.

Then, they told me I also have a cute, little, baby ulcer.

I can tell you--from first hand experience--that a real hospital is NOTHING like Seattle Grace. None of the doctors were cute (not even one). Not that I was really prowling around looking for it, but there weren't any doctors or nurses making out in the stairwells either. There were no panties hanging on bulletin boards. There were not people yelling at each other and did not appear to be any patients with strange disorders such as pec implants or men with uteruses.

And--this is the saddest part--I'm going to forego my Valium tonight until after Grey's Anatomy. It's been a crappy enough two days; I can't miss my favorite show, too.