Wednesday, February 10, 2010
It's over. We broke up.
The other day I woke up and realized something was wrong. And it got worse throughout the day. There was a spot on my upper-mid back that was killing me and got worse as the day went on. It was nagging throughout that evening and I finally broke down and got on WebMD. Now I am no idiot. I know that WebMD is a dangerous tool for those of us who are prone to worrying and freaking out about stuff, but I needed answers because it felt like it was like inside my ribs. On that list was a possible 16 diagnoses which included a pulmonary embolism, kidney failure, cancer and some rupture having to do with your lungs. Luckily I had waited until really late that night to get on and was so exhausted that sleep was my escape from friffing over what killer disease I was facing. Luckily my doctor's appointment was first thing the next morning and come to find out it was just a few torn muscles. Consider this our final break-up, WebMD. It's over. Don't call. Don't text. Don't write. Don't drive by my house and please don't try to get in good with my friends in hopes they will persuade me to take you back. If you want the bracelet back that you gave for me with our names engraved on it, I will ship it. I am going to go ahead and keep the diamond earrings you gave me, as a parting gift, if it's all the same to you. Good luck in all you do and I wish you health and happiness.