Let the games begin!

I was given the privilege of being ‘maid of honour’ twice at the beginning of the year. A job I didn’t take lightly, but one I was also very excited about, planning the dresses, the weddings and the infamous hen’s parties. The latter was something I was most excited about. Booze filled nights, fancy hotels, ladies antics, dress-ups and running amuck around town; all done in the company of my favourite girlfriends...excited was an understatement! The first hen’s night and wedding were amazing, one of my oldest, best friends married her soul mate, another one of our good friends; it was a fantastic day that had been precluded by a night of wild women having ridiculous amounts of fun! Afterwards I was completely exhausted, I enjoyed seeing everybody have such a good time but it felt like something was missing, I didn’t feel as though I had been myself. Nobody else seemed to notice so I brushed it aside. The pace did not look to be slowing down with the next wedding fast approaching, so I threw myself into planning that with vigour. The day of the 2^nd hen’s night arrived and I couldn’t put my finger on it but I just didn’t feel right. We had booked a hotel and I remember leaving the group and walking to get a sandwich because I felt so weak and shaky, I knew I had to build my constitution up before I began drinking; really all I wanted to do was have a nap. We had a nice late lunch with the mother of the bride and some of the older ladies who wouldn’t be joining us in town, and then we headed back up to the hotel and got dressed in theme for the evening. Regardless of the theme we were all dressed in rather risqué outfits and the drinking began with force. Usually I would also be engaging in drinking with great gusto but I knew something wasn’t right so I kept a much slower pace; I took a few panadol too. I hadn’t let the other girls know how I was feeling so it came as a bit of a shock, at the third bar I was on the verge of collapse. The initial response was that I must have had too much to drink, however I assured them this was not the case. I insisted that the other girls continued on, after all you only have your hen’s night once, and my best friend waited with me for mum to arrive. I can remember being in so much pain that I threw up in the booth that we were sitting in, my friend had a bit of a job explaining to the door man that I wasn’t intoxicated as he tried to expel me from the bar. After what felt like a lifetime my mum arrived and she knew as soon as she got there that we had to go to the hospital. The problem was I was still in my revealing costume, we stopped quickly to drop my friend home and I borrow some of her husband’s track pants and a baggy t-shirt. I can barely remember getting to the hospital, my abdomen was so sore I thought I would pass out with the pain. The events that follow are mostly a blur. I was given pain relief through a line in my arm; it was my first ever taste of morphine, a horrible drug with which I was soon to become well acquainted. I was also run through a range of tests and examinations to try and discover the source of the abdominal pain. I was admitted to a ward as the investigations continued, so far the source of the pain was elusive. This was the first of many hospital stays ahead of me.