Appendicitis Adventures

<--- I don't have one of those anymore!

I've been home for quite a few hours, I've lost my playmate (David is sleeping), and I'd like to relate my adventures, so here we go. I actually started typing a very lengthy blog about my hospital stay but it was way too long so this will have to be more of a highlights blog.

Prologue: David and I ran errands all of Sunday afternoon, which led us to a Burger King to get the frozen Coke I'd been craving all week, a Wendy's for a delicious chicken sandwich, and finally home where I ate a PB&J and ordered a free mushroom pizza to eat while watching Swiss Family Robinson, a cute movie with lots of animals and the weakest female characters I've ever seen. My stomach started to hurt after the frozen Coke, but I thought it was just indigestion or hunger pains until about a half hour into the movie. My stomach hurt so much that I couldn't sit comfortably, it hurt incredibly every time I moved, and I didn't want David to touch me at all in case the pain increased. Worried, we looked up symptoms and decided it was food poisoning. I didn't quite buy into that diagnosis because David ate the same things I had and he felt fine. Still, we decided to see how things went overnight, since food poisoning typically goes away quickly. My pain diminished for a few hours before we went to sleep, so we rested assured that it was food poisoning and I would continue to feel fine in the morning when I woke up.

Wrong. The pain woke me up again about an hour after I'd fallen asleep, and then twice an hour after that. We had just seen Avatar Saturday afternoon and I remembered wishing/dreaming that we could go to the sacred place and transform my spirit into my avatar body, discarding this pain-ridden one. I woke up for good around 6:15 and tried to will myself to stay quiet so as to not disturb David, who had to write a five-page paper for law school Monday that was due today. Eventually that became impossible, so at about 7:00 I went downstairs and huddled under some blankets. Being the great husband that he is, David noticed and tried to get me to come back to bed, but I knew sleep was out of the question. He also got up and piddled about the house for a little, doing laundry and such, while I tried to be as quiet as possible and looked up more causes for abdominal pain on the web. It turns out that I matched all of the symptoms for appendicitis: abdominal pain different from any felt before that filled the entire abdomen before it localized just above the right hip, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, low-grade fever, chills, etc. We thought that since the pain had gone away for a few hours in the night, it might do the same that day, and decided to hold off on any hospital visits until the early afternoon if the pain was still around then. I couldn't make it past 9:30, so we packed a bag and took off for Shadyside Hospital.

Checking into the ER: I was checked in much faster than I ever have been before because appendicitis symptoms are a Big Deal. In a period of about three or four hours, I drank nasty medicine that made my insides glow, got a CT scan where they inject dye into the body (it feels like wetting your pants - not fun) to highlight internal trauma, and watched a terrible movie with Hillary and Haylie Duff. I couldn't have any pain medication at this time because doctors and nurses had to poke and prod to see where it hurt most to diagnose me, and I probably told David "It hurts" about fifty times. Finally my doctor came in and confirmed my suspicions: I had appendicitis, and I had to have surgery to cure it.

Not-so-fun fact: Harry Houdini died from appendicitis. It gets very serious very quickly, because when the appendix ruptures, it sprays Bad Things all over the vital organs and everything else in the abdomen. I caught onto the symptoms early enough that rupturing was extremely unlikely, but the smallest things can exacerbate it, like eating, drinking, and taking aspirin. I think that's why appendicitis comes with a loss of appetite - it's like the body is saying: "Hey, I'm sorry to be such a bother and get an inflamed appendix that hurts like crazy and could possibly kill you, but I'll make it up to you by taking away your hunger so you won't make it worse."

MIA: The anesthesiologist came in about a half hour after appendicitis was confirmed. I saw the blue scrubs and knew that meant my pain would decrease relatively soon (whether through pain medication or through surgery), so I sat up quickly and smiled. They looked at me like I was a Freak of Nature; apparently appendicitis patients aren't typically so "lively." My scrubbed hero told me he'd see me in the OR soon and explain how the procedure would go there, but I was wheeled away to my recovery room. I waited there for about an hour, chatting with my nurse and being poked and prodded by yet another doctor, who again confirmed that my appendix needed to come out, before someone realized the mistake and the OR people came to collect their patient. Just before surgery, the doctor who had re-diagnosed me gave me some pain medication, so I was extremely grateful to him. I might send him a thank you card.

The surgery: I was wheeled downstairs on a bed this time, which I was very excited about (being in a wheelchair makes me feel about 83), but I had to take my contacts out so most of the trip was literally a blur. I said goodbye to David, who had been a real trooper and stayed with me, listening to my groans and moans for several hours, and entered the pre-op room. Several of the OR people scolded me for being kidnapped, like I was supposed to have some clue about how hospital procedures went on, and complained about my nurse's failings (apparently I was supposed to sign some consent forms upon my diagnosis, which never happened). The anesthesiologist explained the procedure since the surgeon was already waiting for me and told me that my throat might be sore from being intubated. I remember having the mask pressed over my face and taking four deep breaths twice, but I don't remember falling asleep at all.

Staying overnight: I woke up either a little after or before 6:00 PM, very groggy and with doubleplus blurred vision from goo they put into eyes during the surgery to prevent scratched corneas. Some woman was moaning about wanting to go home and had to be physically restrained from taking out her oxygen, etc., either before or after open heart surgery, so all the people whirring around taking my vital signs were talking about how they liked me better because I wasn't difficult. I was shivering so violently upon waking that five cosy blankets were piled on top of me, and after removing my catheter and waiting twenty minutes to ensure I was awake, I got to go upstairs to my recovery room.

They told me my husband was MIA, but it turns out he was waiting in my hospital room because the OR waiting room was closed. I was glad to see him. I got awesome socks (which I am still wearing) and a fresh blanket, beef broth and orange ice for dinner (yuck), and a new awesome nurse named Janis who likes Ryan Reynolds movies and was really funny and nice. Leah, a junior in college, was in charge of taking my vital signs every four hours until I was released. She's about my age and we chatted and laughed with each other about her job, cranky patients, and how she's jealous that I look my age cos she still gets carded for buying R-rated movies. I got some pain medication about every 2-3 hours that made me extremely loopy and delayed my reactions, something that David teased me about later and made me break into giggles, which made me need more pain medication. He sat by me and took care of me for the rest of the night, helping me go to the bathroom (I had to tow along one of those IV coat rack things which was extremely difficult to manage), get adjusted in bed, and just taking really good care of me. We watched Flight of the Conchords and Just Friends before eventually falling asleep, with me waking him up occasionally in the night to help me and me waking up and buzzing Janis for more pain medication.

At home: We got back to the apartment at either 8:00 or 9:00 this morning and I went straight to sleep while my darling husband went to get my prescriptions filled and cleaned up downstairs. I've been awake now since about 11:30, just chilling in bed like I'll have to do the next couple of days. I'm still extremely sore in my belly. I have three inch-long incisions right below my belly button, above my left hip, and right above that place where older woman sometimes have baby bumps. It hurts to move, my throat is still sore and my voice hoarse from the intubation, my arm looks like a turtle shell from all the tape holding IV's, and it especially hurts to laugh because my organs feel sore, but I'm doing great. David is still sleeping peacefully beside me, but I wish he would wake up, but then I feel bad because he slept in a hospital chair last night while I got a cosy bed. Believe it or not, this post is much shorter than the one I originally wrote. If you made it all the way through, congratulations, and thanks for being a friend.