Well, basically nothing. They never did figure out what was wrong with me. Thanks to a thorough ultrasound, they ruled out the possibility of Retained Products (something Winnie-the-Pooh never had to deal with, lucky him) and saved me from the unpleasantness of a D&C, and after tapping my kidneys and running lots o'fluids into me, they ruled out the likelihood of a urinary tract infection. But there were white blood cells in my urine, which suggested that some kind of infection was nevertheless at work.
As a result, I have been sent back home with two courses of antibiotics (yes, Jeri, I am being smart and taking acidophilus capsules in between the antibiotics), instructions to rest as much as possible, aaaaaand... a low-grade fever. Again. Whee! I loves my Tylenol Extra Strength, I do. Even if it doesn't seem to be working so well at this very moment...
All of which is to say that I probably won't be around a whole lot for the next few days either. Though I have finally given myself permission to not sleep if for some reason my body insists it doesn't want to, and not get hysterical and panicky when I can't seem to catch up on my sleep deficit Right This Very Minute. I've decided not to panic over the fever thing either, but just keep taking my medication, hoping that the front-back-side pain thing stays away (it went away early this morning, for which I am very thankful), and hope my body figures out what to do with itself soon.
Brethren, pray for us.