I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough red paper hearts that will make anyone forget they’re in the hospital. However, the fact that the nurses try to make you forget scores them brownie points as far as I’m concerned.

The tiny bag on the left now costs $879. The bigger bag on the right now costs $13,087. I’m pretty sure there’s a wanted poster with my face on it hanging up in Aetna’s corporate office.

As some of you know, I have severe Crohn’s Disease. I haven’t written about it in any great length because, well, sometimes it’s just too tiring to have to explain. I know I should have a different attitude and want to educate people more about my illness, but it’s difficult to do so and bring humor into the mix. However, I’ve decided to write a page about Crohn’s and what I’m going through. So, if you’re up for it, you should probably read this page before clicking on the “Read More” link thingy for the rest of this post. Be advised: If you do check out my Crohn’s page, it’s not funny. At all.

Last night, my ass exploded. As in, like, blood everywhere. As in, so much blood that I thought maybe someone had shot me in the ass with an AK-47. I was home alone at the time and I began totally freaking out. I had never experienced anything like this. Ever. All Crohnie’s experience bleeding, but this was crazy – like, one minute I was watching TV and the next minute, me and my ass could have been extras, playing stabbing victims on CSI or something.

J. was out and I was still in the bathroom trying to stop the blood when he came home. I yelled from the bathroom that I was freaking out because something in my ass… well, ruptured. He asked if we should go to the hospital and had I been able to actually stop the blood long enough to get in the car, I would have said yes. I mean, both my car and his truck are pretty messy, but this would be taking things to a whole new level of “mess”. I had visions of dying in the bathroom without any pants on. The saddest part is that I’m not even famous enough to get news coverage so my death wouldn’t even be appreciated as some “freak accident”.

After I finally stopped the blood, I got even more freaked out because I realized that I would need to pinpoint the exact source of all the blood since this wasn’t just… blood but more like the Niagara Falls of Blood. Since I’ve never been good at being a contortionist, one of two things would have to happen in order to see what was going on with my ass. Either J. would need to come into the bathroom and play ass inspector, or I would need to use a mirror and be my own ass inspector. Since we don’t own any goggles that he could wear in case my ass erupted again, I went with being my own ass inspector. I’ll spare you the details since this post has probably already caused some of you to projectile vomit.

It has now been determined that I have a Bleeding External Hemorrhoid caused by Crohn’s. Because, you know, I don’t have enough to deal with. It’s like some Higher Power wanted to see what else I could handle and said, “I know! Let’s make her ass shoot blood like a spigot!”

Flash forward to today and bleeding has stopped and the discomfort is gone. My doctor isn’t seeing me until next week so in the meantime, I’m not to use any superpowered medication, cream or ointment. My treatment? Apple Cider Vinegar and warm baths.

So, since the humiliation of having my ass shoot blood is gone, there’s a whole new level of humiliation in the form of smelling like a walking vinegar bottle. I’ll let you guys insert your own “tossed salad” joke.

J. and I have a friend, MM. In fact, MM is who introduced me to J. While MM is an okay guy, he lacks much personality, will be honest to the point of hurting your feelings and, well, notorious for Pop-Overs in which he doesn’t leave your house for two hours or longer. At noon time yesterday, J. and I had just decided to hop in bed and take an afternoon nap when the phone rang. In an effort to start relaxing more and not jumping up every time the phone rings, I decided to let the answering machine pick up. It was MM and his exact words were, “Hey, I’m at the CVS down the street from your house. I needed to pick up medicine for [his daughter]. I figured I’d give you a courtesy call before stopping by.”

Uh. The CVS is exactly 1/2 of a mile away. What kind of courtesy call is it when the pop-overer about to Pop-Over is [literally] 4 minutes down the street? J. and I both freaked out because, well, we really wanted to take a nap. It was his day off from work and well, I purposely never had kids so I could nap during the day. We both jumped out of bed and made some quick decisions.

I began throwing on a weird assortment of clothing, grabbed my car keys and ran out to my car- all within 2 minutes. I have no clue what J. was doing during the 2 minutes it took me to do that, but I began honking my horn repeatedly until he came running out of the door and hopped into the car.

We started driving. To where, we didn’t know. All we knew was that we had to avoid this Pop-Over or our hopes of a nice afternoon nap would be ruined. We began to assess the situation as we drove: Was MM calling as he arrived at CVS or as he was leaving CVS? Was MM calling after dropping off a prescription and being told it would take 20 minutes to refill and he was looking to spend those 20 minutes at our house? Or was he calling prior to even entering CVS? These questions were crucial; they were the difference between passing MM on the street as we drove away or making a clean getaway.

The problem is, we just didn’t know any of the answers. So we drove. Away from the house. Away from the direction in which MM would be driving to get to our house. We drove in circles around the neighborhood. After 20 minutes of driving, we still had unanswered questions and had used up almost all of the gas I had in the car.Having run out of the house so quickly, we didn’t have money, credit cards, drivers licenses or even our cell phones.

Was MM sitting in front of our house because his prescription wasn’t ready? Did MM already have the medicine and had come to our house, knocked on the door and left when no one answered? Was MM still at CVS waiting for the prescription and then was coming to our house? How long would it take to fill the prescription?

We did the only logical thing: We parked in the plaza across the street from the CVS and watched to see if we could see him enter and/or leave CVS. This left us with more questions: Was MM driving his car? His wife’s car? His Mom’s car? Was he still inside the CVS? In the parking lot? At our house? Was that gray mini-van in the CVS parking lot MM’s mini-van? Did MM even still have a gray mini-van? Or was it a blue mini-van? Or a blue SUV of some sort? Or a gray SUV???

After a few minutes, we decided to drive by our house and assess the sitch. We zoomed past our house and no one was there, yet we didn’t feel safe just yet. So we went to another plaza across the street [only closer] to CVS, hoping for a better vantage point. We were left with all the same questions.

After 40 fucking minutes, we decided we were too sleepy to carry on the mission of The Pop-Over Avoidance. We went home. I made J. return MM’s call so we could get a feel for where he was. I instructed J. that if MM stated he was still at CVS, to tell him we just got home and were on our way back out. I was concerned because sometimes J. panics when he has to say specific things [like, at a drive-thru window] so I stood nearby as he called MM so I could coach him if necessary. MM had left the area and was back at his house! Nap time was a go!
The funny part of all of this is that “nap time” isn’t a code word for anything elicit. We really did just want to take a nap. Instead, we spent most of our nap time driving in circles, wasting gas and staking out a CVS for various vantage points.

The lessons learned from all of this are numerous:

• Set “no pop-over” ground rules for your friends who do not nap during the day. People who have kids forget that those of us without kids most likely have never had kids because we like to take naps in the middle of the day.
• Make sure when running out of your house to avoid a Pop-Over, that you put your underwear on under your pants. If we had gotten into an accident, I don’t know how I’d explain to anyone why J. was wearing boxer-briefs on the outside of his jeans. [I'm kidding. This didn't happen, but it could - so be careful!]
• Make sure when running out of your house to avoid a Pop-Over that you grab some cash and/or credit cards. Running out of gas during a Pop-Over Avoidance could be very embarrassing.
• Take your cell phone too.
• And your driver’s license.
• When you pick a plaza parking lot to use as a stake-out point, make sure your line of vision won’t be blocked by street traffic. Also, make sure the plaza doesn’t contain any places where food is sold, like a pizza place or a bagel shop. Your Pop-Over Target might decide to stop and get some lunch and then you have to think on your feet for the “Fancy meeting you here- let’s go back to your house” situation and that’s risky.
• And most importantly, make sure you know what kind of car your Pop-Over Target is driving. Now, anytime I see a gray or blue mini-van, I have a seizure.