Monday was a day of days. Started out relatively pleasantly for a Monday – dropped the small human at camp, wandered at a leisurely pace back to the apartment, had a nap, cleaned up a bit. And then ate some dolma.

Fucking dolma.

I left the apartment and decided that I didn’t want to walk. So caught the bus, which is when the stomach ache started. The cramps were one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. By the time I’d arrived at the camp space to collect the child I was losing vision because the cramps were taking over my whole body. My initial thought was an episode of ‘Dumping Syndrome’ – a side effect of a gastric bypass when you overload with carbs and your body rejects it. I’ve had it a few times, it’s unpleasant, but you move on swiftly.

We got home and thirty seconds later my body ejected everything within it. The most resounding memory from the afternoon is my rockstar kid having to FaceTime her dad and tell him I was sick. I was lying in the floor unable to move because of nausea and stomach pain. She was as cool as a cucumber – in-between comforting me by rubbing my back and telling me “it’s going to be OK Mummy” and telling her dad how I was, she was also doing something with magnetic ballerina dolls. There was also a moment when she strolled in and needed me to wipe her arse for her. It was a low life moment, although one I fear will be retold with aplomb.

I was persuaded to go and seek some medical help, so ended up in the ER after being at an Urgent Care centre. Everyone was very kind to me – even my doorman who gave me a telling off for not calling down so he could have carried me to the cab. The small human cuddled up to me on the ER bed and I definitely needed it more than she did. Many IVs later and I started to look and feel a touch more human. And on the subject of IVs, the small human was mesmerised by the entire process and can explain how they work (thanks to a very patient nurse) in fine detail.

Then the truly amazing KB collected Tiggy. To say I’m grateful for the NYC fam is an understatement. Tiggy was whisked off, taken to see a lobster, fed sushi, was told all about Vanessa the mermaid and cuddled to sleep. Not all heroes wear capes – this one wears DVF and snoozes on your couch until almost 3am.

The ER was a fascinating place. All forms of life coexisting in one spot was a tremendous distraction. There was an ancient Jewish dude who hadn’t had a shit for sixteen days, so understandably has a stomach ache – I felt for his translator who was wincing with every sentence, and thought he was going to lose it when the EMT mentioned the immortal phrase “manual evacuation”. My heart broke for the pregnant lady who was sobbing because she thought there was a problem with her unborn kid, but from what I could hear a night of monitoring to be safe and she would be home the next day. And to the arrogant guy who kept badgering staff to be seen – when the only time you check yourself is because a four year old loudly asks her mother “Why is that man being so rude?” you might want to consider how you conduct yourself in public. Inbetween starburst-based bribery, of course. The partially sighted octogenarian with “Juicy” plastered on her arse in diamanté pips all to the post for being my favourite though, especially when she was flirting with a doctor.

A lovely doctor came and prodded me. And gave me a lot of time to be upset because the small human had seen everything. She ordered a CT scan so that she could see what was going on, and then a kind nurse bought me something I had to take for the scan contrast. She’d flavoured it with Crystal Light lemonade and after not being able to keep anything down, it might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever had to drink. Apart from a cosmo, obvs.

As I laid there waiting for the CT – a lot was running through my mind about what was going on. had something gone wrong with the bypass? Had I fucked up? After my elation at plateauing, this is the wake up call I needed. I have a very tolerant bypass, I know this. But I need to not take my tool for granted and become complacent about it all.

But it wasn’t dumping syndrome. I got diagnosed with colitis. A whole new world to navigate.

At least I didn’t shit myself, eh?