How one meal changed everything
Then, when I was 26, and living with the man I now call husband (because I married him), I ate something I shouldn't have – well, I ate Chinese at a place that swore it didn't have any MSG in its food – and spent many hours throwing up, no hours pooing, and finally woke my then boyfriend and told him he'd better take me to the hospital.
My stomach was hard and distended, and I knew this meant more surgery. I also knew it meant something else – something I'd been sticking my fingers in my ears and singing 'la la la' about for way too long.
At the hospital, my surgeon was called from his bed some miles away to attend to me, and on his arrival, he held my hand, looked me in the eye and said, 'you know what this means, don't you?' I did.