A (Toxic) Shock On My System

You might have a problem if…

Nothing stands in your way of a good time.  And by "nothing" I mean tampons, and your idea of a good time is sex.  And your name is Kristyn.

The details of the evening in question are  inconsequential.  All you need know is I was under the (natural) impression that not being able to locate said clotting device the next morning meant I had remembered to remove it before play time, and had disposed of it.

Turns out the exact opposite had occurred, and essentially I'd been hammering a nail into my coffin.

http://kterrl.wordpress.com/tag/toxic-shock-syndrome/

Oh, yeah.  Toxic shock syndrome is fatal.  Sex kills - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.  Just like booze.

Eleven days later,  I'm layed up in the hospital with a series of tubes and IV's running through me; kickin' it on a goddamn gurney that had a built in scale - my ultimate nightmare.  ANYONE could freely access my weight at any given time.

A series of things happened over the course of the three days I was incapacitated:

1) My brother graduated from college.  Which I missed.  Because I was recovering from toxic shock syndrome.  Can't get that moment back.

2) My ENTIRE family was in town!  (For my brother's graduation.)  So I had LOTS of visitors.  Who "knew" what happened to me.  I'm a whore.
     
             2a) Know who didn't visit?  My boyfriend.

3) It was the first time I was informed by a medical professional that I might, in fact, have a drinking problem.

To which I responded: "Man, I need a fucking drink."