Luck O' The Irish

How did I spend my first St. Patrick's day as a bonafide Mc? In the freakin' ER with what I assume was a ruptured ovarian cyst. I say "assume" because even though I spent over 5 hours there, all they did was take bloodwork--not so much as pass an ultrasound wand over my abdomen.

The best part was that my discharge instructions--given to me by the nurse because an actual doctor couldn't be bothered to come speak to me or examine me--say that if I experience sharp, shooting pain and shakiness to immediately go to the ER. Um, isn't that what I already did and they didn't do anything for it the first time?

So no green beer at the McGary house last night--although I don't drink beer anyway so I guess it wouldn't have mattered.

And can I just say that it boggles my mind to have a husband who leaves work to come to the ER just to sit with me for 5+ hours? Contrast this with my former life--for instance when I was in labor with Mimi. Let's just say that Patrick wouldn't have been sleeping in the recliner the whole time without so much as a "hey, how you doing over there giving birth to my child?"