This morning the leg wasn't much better, and by mid-morning my right arm had gone numb. A little after that, the right side of my face decided to follow suit. Even my tongue went half-numb. By then I was pretty convinced I was having a stroke and suggested to Geekster that we go to the hospital.

Was I scared? Absolutely. But not so scared as to avoid putting on a nice bra and some makeup first. I always worry that, if I die and people come to say goodbye to me in the hospital, I'm going to look like shit and that will be everyone's last memory of me. "Remember how shitty The Maven looked when she died? So tragic." 

Or, worse, the zombie apocalypse will happen right as I take my last breath, and my mouth will be tearing into skulls without any pretty lipstick on it to compliment the blood splatter.

Off to the hospital, now looking passably hawt. I was kind of angry the whole way. I kept saying to Geekster that I had better not die because I just started working out three months ago and my arms are looking fabulous and who wants to die when their arms look this good? Besides, then he'd have to raise the kids by himself, or try and find a woman who's as attractive and maternal as me, and good luck with that because every single one will pale in comparison after you've had all this, buddy. And really, people are just starting to find my blog and how is it fair to them if I perish in a freak numbing incident? 

No, I had purpose: I needed to stay alive for the people.

They did lots of weird tests at the hospital. I had to rub the heel of one foot down the opposite shin, close my eyes and pretend I was holding a tray, repeatedly touch my nose and then the doctor's finger... At one point I asked if they wanted to take my blood alcohol level because that would conclusively prove I wasn't drunk. She laughed and said no, but she'd like to do a pregnancy test.

I was all, "Bitch, I am so not pregnant. You're wasting your time." Except I didn't call the doctor a bitch because she wasn't and even if she was, she has drugs at her disposal that could kill an elephant in 6 seconds. And she asked if I was sure and I replied, " Bitch, I just finished my period and my husband has a vasectomy. I'm pretty sure." But she still wanted to check because it could explain the numbness.

Now, I've been pregnant at least 5 times and carried 3 babies to term, and I can tell you that numbness - outside of sciatica - has never been an issue for me. But fine, I'll pee for you. And so I did, and it was negative. And so we checked my heart, and that was nice and strong. And we checked blood pressure and reflexes and eyes and speech and all sorts of things - and I am absolutely healthy. No signs of anything worrisome. 

Except for the numbness.

The doctor called in another doctor and a specialist of some kind and they all talked about me while I was lying there getting my heart rhythm checked with my shirt pulled up and my pretty bra showing (see? It pays to wear nice underthings to the hospital. They were all, "Can you pull up your shirt so we can attach these stickers to you?" And I was all, "Absolutely, you can!" BA-BOOM! Gorgeous, supported cleavage wrapped up in frilly lace. And it's black so it won't show all the blood when I come back to feast on the living.)

In the end, nobody knows what's wrong with me. I still have this traveling numbness that is sometimes in my right leg, sometimes in my right arm, sometimes anywhere on my face, or sometimes in all those places. I could have hurt my back, I could have a virus, I could be having an allergic reaction, it could be a bug bite, I could be having a neurological event. We are just not sure. The one thing we are pretty sure about is that it's not getting any worse right now. I have a standing invitation to visit the ER again any time this weekend if it gets scarier, and I'm to follow up with the doctor at the hospital either tomorrow or Monday. If it's not gone, we'll do a CT scan and/or MRI and/or other tests (we weighed the pros vs. cons of subjecting me to that level of radiation today and we decided against it as I don't have any other symptoms warranting one.) If it's gone, we'll chalk it up to an unlucky incident that will hopefully never return.

As we were leaving, I had to remind Geekster that snickering after I said, "Well, at least there's nothing seriously wrong with my brain," was bad form. He still thought it was mighty hilarious. I smacked him with my numb arm because I couldn't feel it. 

And then made him take me out for steak.

I'm glad I'm not dying and especially glad I'm not pregnant. As it stands, however, I am a medical enigma.