I became a housewife on the day that I died.

My stomach died.  I know, right?  You actually read that correctly.  The day that this happened to me was the day that my world turned upside down.  I no longer was a young professional earning ranks in downtown Chicago, I was no longer planning my dream wedding, and all dreams of eating at 5 star restaurants went out the window.

I wasn’t sick.. not really.  I had some stomach issues for a couple of years but they were pretty much relatable to anyone with a gluten allergy or IBS.  Then one day I went to the ER thinking I was passing a kidney stone and a few days later they concluded that my entire stomach had died and it was basically just chilling waiting for me to die along with it.  They tried to prevent that from happening but during extensive surgery my body did just that… it died.  It was only for seconds but I could feel the bruise from the paddles for a year after this event occurred.  The worst part of it for me was that there was no light.  There was no a-ha moment and no self realization.  All I remember was it being dark and cold and hearing things around me that didn’t seem normal.  But I kind of got ripped out of that out of body experience.  I guess that’s what you get when you aren’t sure what you believe in.

So after spending almost a month in the hospital… there I was left with questions, left with pain, left with a scar longer than my foot on my stomach.  Oh yeah- but I don’t have a stomach.  So this is when I start calling it a belly.  Or when I hurt after eating it is a gut ache.  My intestines hurt.  But I can no longer say I have a stomach ache.  Little did I know this was the lease of my worries.

My entire stomach was dead so they had to attach my small intestine to my esophagus and hence problems eating.  Anything.  There is not one thing I can eat without preparing myself to be sick or in pain… there is no rhyme or reason to what happened to me and now no rhyme or reason to what my body can tolerate any given day.  But that is for later.  Right now the important part is to realize that the day this happened to me was the day I became a housewife.  It wasn’t marrying rich or to travel the world.   With that career came problems.  And so started my housewife problems.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s