Mother's Intuition

Mothers always know when there is something wrong with their child. A lot of the time they overreact. If a child woke up their mother in the middle of the night and said, "Take me to the emergency room or call an ambulance! Something is wrong!" they would immediately rush to the hospital.

Not my mother. 

One night I was laying on the floor surfing the internet when I started to get what I thought was heartburn. It was pretty extreme but I just went to bed. After laying there for about 20 mins I started getting terrible pains in my back and the first thing I thought of was that stupid show where people didnt know they were pregnant. Another 10 minutes or so pass and I start throwing up. My sister wakes up from my crying. I tell her to wake up my mom who starts yelling at me. 

Im writhing on the bed in pain, crying and begging for her to call an ambulance and she YELLS at me for being a baby. She says something along the lines of "stop being such a baby. its just indigestion. grow up." 

This continues about twice a week for about 2 months. My aunt says its chocolate thats giving me indigestion. She works in a pediatrics office, so she should know. I noticed it only happened when I ate bad stuff that would give anyone heartburn. I take medicine for indigestion and acid reflux and suck it up. 

One night, after eating nothing bad, it happened again. The chest pains, the back pains, the puking and shitting. I couldn't take this one. It lasted for 12 hours. I looked up my symptoms online and deduced it was gallstones. Went to the hospital and told the doctor, "Im pretty sure its my gallbladder." 

A few hours later, after an X-Ray, lots of drawn blood, an EKG and the old, "Oh did I poke you in the eye with my nipple? It must be cold in here" excuse, the doctor comes back. 

Shes all like, "Yo, youre gallbladder is jacked. It might explode. You need surgery like, as soon as possible." 

She also tells me that I have a touch of pneumonia.

 I call my mom to pick me up, and in the car I show her my prescription for antibiotics, my inhaler and my consultation date with the surgeon. 

She finally admits I was right. 

Fast forward a month or so...we get home from the hospital after my surgery and she forgets to help me out of the car. She also forgets to carry my bags and help me up the steps. 

I can never accuse her of being overprotective.