More than you wanted to know about the last 48 hours.

Well, the child recovered from his fever in time to spend the weekend at my in-laws, as we had planned. Scott and I had a great weekend, and because of this, on Sunday night, the Lord chose to strike me down with yet another bladder infection. Yea, he didst render me insensible with pain, such was his wrath, that we should dare enjoy each other's company without a child mewling and tugging at our belt loops.

It began at midnight on Sunday, when I thought, hmm, what's that mild twinge in my lower abdomen? I then made the mistake of going to the bathroom, instead of throwing myself out the window. The less said about what happened in the bathroom, the better, but I will say that I have never experienced pain like that; I would rather have given birth through my urethra, and I'm sorry I just wrote that but there it is. Do you want me to delete it? Too late! Already published!

We spent much of Sunday-into-Monday in the emergency room—and it was the cutest little emergency room you ever did see. So wee! So not spattered with blood and fear! Until I showed up! Although there was only one other guy there, some guy with a cough, CRY ME A RIVER, the ER staff still decided to make us wait for hours, or what seemed like hours. I think I heard music coming from the triage room. They couldn't hear my moaning and weeping over the music and the clog dancing—I bet there was clog dancing—or maybe they could, and it amused them. If they could have siphoned my tears into their cocktails, they probably would have. The devils!

Finally the doctor took a break from his carousing to see me, and declared that instead of giving me the medication that works for bladder infections, he would give me the medication that does not work. I thought this was an interesting strategy, but maybe one that would result in pain, instead of not-pain. He didn't seem to mind that idea. I tried to argue my point, but he had already had enough of me. He was done the moment he entered the room and asked me what was wrong, and I had the temerity to observe that I had a bladder infection. How dare I diagnose myself!

I wasn't even going to write about this. I sat down this morning and thought, "Don't write about your stupid bladder, Alice, no one wants to hear about it." But my hands keep on typing it out. I can't stop them. Anyway, the drugs didn't work, I wept and clawed at myself, the pain, oh the pain, I went to my doctor, he gave me the drugs that worked, I slept the rest of the day, my son came home and I kissed him all over his sweet head, and here I am. The sun is shining, and I have the ability to stand upright. It's a good day.