The day after surgery my mom and I spend 6 hours in the ER because I was afraid I had an infection. It was a very painful day of IVs, CT scans, diagnostic tests, more blood work (naturally) and another shot of Dilaudid. Hey-oh!

I was super bitchy cranky that day. In a hell of a lot of pain and no one seemed to be bothered by this, which added more to my foul mood.

Turns out I was really dehydrated and just didn’t know it. I am a waterrrrrr drinker. I type it that way so you will get my emphasis. My daily beverages consist of 1 cup of coffee and water. No juice, no soda. Sometimes wine. Ok, a lot of times wine. But a lot of water. So when it had been 12 hours and I hadn’t gone to the bathroom, it was only natural to assume that a serious infection had spread from my incisions to my kidneys, causing my entire abdomen to swell and therefore cut off my urethra from my bladder, which would then lead my bladder to swell and explode inside of my body and then I would die.

My sweet, patient mother listened to my fears, gave me one more grace hour to change my mind, then helped me into the car and took me to the ER with nothing but support and kindness on her lips. She sat there in the room and stroked my hair like she used to do when I was a child. It was the only thing that calmed me. Until the Dilaudid, of course.

All that time and testing just turned up one thing: Dehydration. I had been without liquids for so long that it was just taking my body time to catch up. I felt dumb. But then again, it’s better to err on the side of caution when it comes to your body. I’ll just remember for my next surgery to drink copious amounts of liquid afterwards and maybe not be so quick to imagine random organs exploding inside of me.

After 6 hours, they pull the IV out of my aching arm and we come home. 6 more days until my post-op with Dr. Mangal, when I’ll find out what exactly is going on inside this poor body of mine.