Confession: My Mind is Definitely the Culprit

The tampon debacle is over. Or, actually, it never even existed.

Last night I thought I was dying. I started to feel very sick, achy, headache — all the symptoms I didn’t want. My palms remained red. I took my temperature throughout the night and it went from 99.2 to 99.4 to 99.5. And you probably think I’m nuts for thinking that’s a fever, but my average core temp is low, like 97.3 low, so anything in the 99s is a fever for me.

I was afraid I was going to die in my sleep, or worse — that when I finally got to my appointment in the morning, the doctor was going to tell me I had TSS and there was nothing they could do. Or worse — the doctor was going to remove the tampon I was convinced was inside me, and then tell me I was fine when in reality I wasn’t fine and I would die without knowing I was dying.

But none of that happened. I slept fine, woke up, felt really really crampy, got ready and headed out.

Oh, I forgot to mention in the other three posts that using tampons felt uncomfortable. Every time I tried to use one I felt sicker, so I decided not to use any until this was all sorted out. Only I also didn’t have any pads, only panty liners for over night or super heavy flow moments. So I filled my underwear with those bitches. 5 of them. Everywhere. I wasn’t about to have one of those leakage moments with nowhere to run.

Photo Credit: Pigroll (Found using Google Image Search / 'Labeled for reuse' option) Kind of like this.

Photo Credit: Pigroll (Found using Google Image Search / ‘Labeled for reuse’ option)
Kind of like this. (This is not my child, although the resemblance is ironic.)

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