For those who are interested, the full story: (with photos!)

I was at my parents’ cabin in the upper peninsula of Michican (pictured above) and woke up a little sore and achey. I thought maybe I was getting a cold, NBD.

Within an hour, I was feverish, incredibly achy and sore, and freezing even though it was 65 degrees. When I went to the bathroom, I noticed odd, streaky red swelling in my groin/hipflexor.

Because this all escalated so quickly, and because I was so sick, my mom convinced me to go to the tiny hospital. At the ER, the Dr. said I ‘seemed septic’ and they started giving me antibiotics, but no one could tell what the infection was.

After a few hours, the Dr. said I “wasn’t sick enough” to admit, and told me to come back the following day for more meds. (they sent me home with an IV in my arm-it was all very odd)

At this point, I was just getting sicker and sicker and pretty out of it. My mom called my little brother who is a medic, who suggested that we drive back toward the major cities and real hospitals.

After packing up in a rush, we left around midnight and drove 6 hours through the night. (technically, I was there, but I was mostly asleep/unconscious)

Once we got back, I went to a real hospital here in Toledo. In the ER, they were horrified that the tiny hospital sent me home with an iv in my arm, and a white blood cell count of 32 (normal is less than 10!).

Pouting in the ER

I was immediately admitted, and they started pumping me with tons and tons of antibiotics. By this point, I had large, swollen red spots all over my leg, and my foot was 2-3 times normal size.



I actually don’t remember most of this because I was barely awake.

Food is hard/dumb.

Drinking is also difficult.

I was eventually diagnosed as septic, my lung was partially collapsed, and I had pneumonia. The infectious disease doctor determined that I had a very aggressive staph infection caused by athlete’s fungus (I had 3 tiny red dots on the bottom of my other foot).

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The next day, I woke up and actually was starting to feel quite a bit better. I ate food, and even went for a walk around the hospital. I thought I was going to get discharged the following morning.

Things were looking up- I was very pleased with myself.







Then around 9pm, I felt the worst pain ever-directly below my sternum. I got extremely nauseous and I started having difficulty breathing. It was really scary, but eventually the next morning, they sent me down for an ultrasound and MRI where they learned that my gallbladder was (technical term): messed up.

artist’s rendering courtesy of my little sister.





They discovered that the walls of my gallbladder were over 1cm thick (they are supposed to be less than 3mm). The surgeons seemed shocked/impressed. They indicated there was lots of scar tissue which meant that, apparently, my gallbladder had been messed up for years, and this acute attack was the last straw.

After a hospital transfer (so I could have the surgery done by a specialist) I had open, not laparoscopic, gall bladder surgery on the May 17th, my 5th day in the hospital.

The surgery went well. Here is my very angry looking gallbladder:









Here are some pics of my gnarly looking scar:

I intend to tell people I got in a west side story-style knife fight. I’ll report back.





Anyway, I’m two weeks post op and feeling sore but otherwise great. I’m not supposed to lift anything over 10 pounds for 4 more weeks, which is an absurd restriction which I have TOTALLY BEEN FOLLOWING (in case my mom/surgeon reads this).

I have accepted that my career as a torso/belly button model is toast. Life is grand.