Belly Drama

Appendix: Addendum, adjunct; supplement both meaning material added at the end of a book. An appendix gives useful additional information, but even without it the rest of the book is complete.

An interesting definition given the subject (for all that my life is a book), but doesn’t really tell the story (haaaaa).

Vermiform Appendix - A narrow, blind tube protruding from the cecum, having no known useful function, in humans being 3 to 4 in. (8 to 10 cm) long and situated in the lower right-hand part of the abdomen.

Ahhhh, yeah, that’s the one.

Monday, September 15 was a day like any other. I remember being particularly crabby, having called Guest Blogger to lament on my crabbiness, not wanting my readership to endure an arbitrary rant on hating humanity. I've overdone that one. We laughed, it got better. For lunch, I remember having some sort of Mexican side dish that included corn and kidney beans. I remember this particularly because I got a nasty belly ache at around 3pm that I couldn’t shake. I mentioned it to my colleague who made me some kind of red tea that was supposed to help. I sipped it on the way home, wanting to die, it didn’t go away as easily as the crabbiness. I was certain it was gas – darn Mexican beans.

Monday night was bad. I was feverish and doubled over in pain, forcing me to stay home from work on Tuesday. Usually, staying home from work is a treat, I mean, you’re home from work. Nope. This hurt. When Guest Blogger called to suggest I come over for crosswords, I declined. So unlike me. The promise of crosswords and martinis is nearly always a sure draw. I was encouraged to see a doctor – could have been a whole host of things – diverticulitis, appendicitis. I was still certain it was just stubborn gas. *&^%(*ing Mexican beans.

I called my sister, hoping to get validation of my self-diagnosis. She didn’t help. I moaned, “It’s not so bad. I’ll feel like an idiot if I go to the ER and it’s nothing.” “Well, you’re going to feel like an idiot of your appendix ruptures and you didn’t go to the ER when you could have. You’re going to feel like an idiot anyway, you might as well go.” Couldn’t argue with that. Guest Blogger took me to the ER.

The triage nurses at the hospital were not on fire Tuesday night. After about an hour I shuffled over and asked nicely if they had forgotten about me. It was the only way I could think of bringing the issue up without saying “What the ^&%# are you people doing back there?” They graciously thanked me for my patience, told me they were still working on several people ahead of me and they’d get to me as soon as they could.

An hour and a half and 2.5 crossword puzzles later, I went to the ladies room. Shortly after, I was triaged, and eventually registered. Thus began the litany of questions I would eventually memorize. Of course, it was right then AFTER I had gone to the bathroom, I was asked for a urine sample. Triage nurse 1 asked:

What is your first and last name? What is your date of birth? Where is the pain? When did is start? On a scale of 1-10 1 being the least and 10 being the worst, what is the pain level? Any nausea? Any vomiting? Any diarreah? Any blood in your stool? Any blood in your urine? When was your last period? When did you last eat? Are you taking any prescription medicines?

I got into a room at approximately 9:30 pm. ER Nurse 1 asked:

What is your first and last name? What is your date of birth? Where is the pain? When did is start? On a scale of 1-10 1 being the least and 10 being the worst, what is the pain level? Any nausea? Any vomiting? Any diarreah? Any blood in your stool? Any blood in your urine? When was your last period? When did you last eat? Are you taking any prescription medicines?

Blood was drawn and vials were left at my table. Hmmmmm. My IV line was looking fabulous when ER Physician Assistant came in asked me:

What is your first and last name? What is your date of birth? Where is the pain? When did is start? On a scale of 1-10 1 being the least and 10 being the worst, what is the pain level? Any nausea? Any vomiting? Any diarreah? Any blood in your stool? Any blood in your urine? When was your last period? When did you last eat? Are you taking any prescription medicines?

Blabbity blah blah blah.

At this point, Guest Blogger, never a fan of the bodily function discussions, burst into a giggling frenzy. She covered her face, blocked her mouth and kept laughing. I started laughing. The ER Physician Assistant and the Blood Nurse just looked at us both, probably wondering if they should run a tox screen for traces of cannabis. Noting their faces, I tried to cover; “It’s 10pm, and we’ve been waiting 2 and a half hours - - we’re both a little punchy."

My blood letter remarked, “I was going to say, and how old are we girls?” Yeah, well *&^) you Blood Nurse, why don’t you *$@##*ing take my vials of blood to the lab and shut the *%$# up?

I wasn’t feeling very tolerant in my head.

I mentioned feeling nauseated in the ER so they shot me up with some anti-nausea medicine. Just a friendly piece of advice? Unless you are puking up bile? Don’t take this stuff. I could feel hot lava juice squirting up the veins in my arm, into my neck, proceeding into my head, and my finally stomach. An agitated plea - “Is that normal?? Is that OK?” was greeted with nonchalance. It eventually settled down and determined never ever to tell anyone I had nausea again unless I spied ovaries in the bowl.

Not long after, I was treated to some morphine for the pain. THEN I was told I had to drink “contrast” to help them see my appendix on the CT Scan. WTF? Some icy pink carbonated juicy juice was placed in front of me. I encouraged Guest Blogger to go home and sleep; I wasn’t going home any time soon.

ER Physician’s Assistant gave me the game plan; I had an hour to drink the “contrast”, an hour to wait, then the CT scan, then an hour to wait and voila! Diagnosis.

Morphine does nothing to help one focus on baby step goals. I wanted only to sleep. But I am nothing if not compliant; I drank that stuff down like a champ.

ER Doctor came in, asked me the same questions, "What is your first and last name? What is your date of birth? Where is ....." patted my hand, explained the CT process….I nodded off, and woke up being wheeled in to the CT scan room. This time, contrast was injected into my IV line and I was warned that I’d start to feel warm. I sure did. In my arm, my throat, my face and then when I was certain I was peeing myself, I decided to trust in the process and not raise a bladder control question.

Crap, I have to finish this quick – appendicitis inconclusive. Sent me home at 3am with Oxycotin and a note to stay home from work. I got a cabbie who didn’t know how to get to my house, so I gave him directions. He was displeased with my payment by credit card and kept the meter running while he located his prehistoric card machine, a slip of paper and a pen. It added $3 to my cab fare. I gave him a $1 tip.

More tomorrow.