SOB.

SOB is not so much for an actual SOB, as it is an acronym for SON OF A BITCH.

Why so angry, you ask?

Let me tell you.  It started last week with awful heartburn.  Awful, AWFUL heartburn.  I know that this is problematic during pregnancy, but this was UNREAL.  Like, pain and pressure in my chest like none other.  As someone with a relatively decent diet who enjoys the hell out of spicy foods and the occasional indulgence, heartburn is no stranger to me.  I have carried Tums around for years, and have even been known to enjoy them like candy.  Well, I have never vomited so much because of the pain.  Not because I was feeling nauseous, but from the pain alone.   It was keeping me up at night, and forcing me to sit perfectly straight and make minimal movements (I have a feeling my posture slightly improved).

At this point, I am panicking, because if I can't handle a little pain, how in the hell am I going to handle the actual birth of a child?  Problems for a later date, my friend. 

Well, two days later, and I was still having this awful pain.  It was ridiculous.  I hadn't eaten real food - mostly because I was afraid of whatever wrath my body was going to unleash on me.  So, at this point, I am an incredibly dehydrated and cranky person.  Any situation which results in me not eating about 5 seconds after announcing that I am hungry usually doesn't end well, so I was already a total wreck. 

I finally put a call in to my doctor last Wednesday.  I got a call back from the weirdo-nurse practitioner, who asked that I would come in.  So I went in.  Fine.  She prescribed Zo.fran, and ordered an ultrasound of my stomach/upper GI area.  I yelled and made a stink about the Zo.fran, since isn't that just treating a symptom and it is not at all what I wanted to hear.  I left the doctors office, and returned to work, obviously a miserable and hungry mess, to wait for three or four hours until I could return to the hospital for my ultrasound.

And the ultrasound went well, I think.  I had a nice, young, hip girl named Stephanie performing the ultrasound.  She was cool enough to scan all the parts she needed, and even give me a free baby show (which I am not supposed to tell anyone about, so keep your mouth shut - the little bugger is doing great!).  She even gave me the "unofficial" results (since normally you have to wait for the write-up to make it back to your doc and hear results from him/her).  And the "unofficial" (and official) results are:  GALLSTONES.

Gross.

Or in other words:

AKA, nothing else delicious for me for the rest of my life.

Ok, not the rest of my life.  Sorry, flair for the dramatic here.  Shocking.   But for the rest of the pregnancy, at least.  Which sucks, because french fries, greasy hamburgers, pizza, et cetera, tend to be some of my favorite foods.   I miss delicious spicy foods, decadent fried foods, indulgent sweets.  Basically, anything with fat in it. 

So, my prognosis is to not eat anything delicious, and complain about a diet of bland foods until I stab myself in the eyes with my fork.  I am supposed to be meeting with my PCP to discuss, and likeliness that I will have to have my gall bladder removed (after the other thing taking up space on my insides is removed) is good.  Looking forward to it. 

I haven't been the best with keeping to this bland food diet, I am just treading carefully and trying diligently to note which foods trigger the crazy ass pains, and steer clear of most delicious fried things.  Obviously, the s'mores post should have alerted you to that.  I am trying, and I guess that's the best I can do.  Eat delicious for me, since I can't, mmaky?