Friday, June 7, 2013

bloody good

So what has been going on with me lately? Let's find out together!

I went to the emergency room on Monday after my therapist freaked me out by basically telling me I could drop dead at any moment. Well, all of us could drop dead (and drop alive, I suppose) at any moment, but mine had to do with what she thought was liver failure. And my eating disorder. What will it be? A stroke or a heart attack? She wanted me to check into an inpatient facility as soon as possible; I, on the other hand, decided to let myself rest with this exhilarating news. I also promptly ate bowl after bowl after bowl of cereal that night. And the next night. I felt out of control and terrified and stuffed. Kind of happy because cereal is awesome? Yeah. But mostly scared shitless.

So the hospital. My mama and sister and a few others sort of "forced" me into going, which turned me into Bitchy Meg for a good portion of the morning. I was left alone in a sterile room with an Oprah magazine and an IV sticking out of my right arm. After a solid two hours, I found out that my liver was okay, but my iron levels were, as the doctor put it, "low as fuck." The doctor didn't really put it that way, but he definitely should have. I am anemic to the point where I may need a blood transfusion in a month if things don't change. I left the hospital lightheaded, but determined. Determined as fuck! In fact, I was so determined that I promptly ate a lamb burger at Lamb's Grill. And I liked it. A lot. Yeah, it scared me shitless; however, it made my cells metaphorically shit their metaphorical pants (and skirts) (and skorts). My whole body absorbed those nutrients and my brain was like, "Well, helllllooooo!" Anyway, my point is that the wolf (me) also shall dwell with the lamb (the burger), and the leopard (god? buddha? santa?) shall lie down with the kid (ugh, kids are the worst); and the calf (veal?) and the young lion (Snoop Lion) and the fatling (trigger!) together; and a little child (Suri Cruise) shall lead them.

Oh wait. My point is that I really need to eat and I really need to eat food that is high in iron and that the Bible is super into animals and dear god please multiply my red blood cells.

I am already feeling better, for the most part. The iron supplements I take sure hate my stomach, but I'd rather have black stool (it's the truth!) than a blood transfusion. A stupid name for a metal band would be "Black Transfusion" or "Stool Blood." Anyone interested in starting a metal band? More importantly, anyone interested in grabbing some burgers?


Patrick Weeks said...

Let's grab burgers together on a Bikram yoga mat at the teddy bear's banana phone picnic! I'm so happy that you are not droppin dead, but getting in your head what Black Sabbath Stool Transfusion's song "Iron Man" can do for your expletive riddled blog post. Jesus wants you for a sun-blood-beam Meghan!

Meg said...

^Patrick pretty much summed up my thoughts on this. LOVE. Blood. STOOL! And playing rain sticks at the farmer's market.