It Had To Be Something

I've been having too much good luck lately. I said exactly that in this silly blog. Last Monday morning I had a mild abdominal cramp and so I decided to stay home from work and watch the Olympics on TV. Later, if I felt better, I was planning to go shopping, or visit some park and experience a chilly day outdoors marching through the snow. I think it was about noon when I began having a more stabbing pain and it was in my lower right abdominal area. For a while I dismissed the whole thing as too much popcorn ingested the night before without sufficient chewing. But over the next hour or so the pain just got worse. It went through some mild burning stage and into more of a throbbing pain. By about 4 in the afternoon I knew something was going on, something not good.

For just a few minutes I thought about driving myself to the emergency room. Then I decided that was not such a good idea so I decided to call Marty and have him take me. I was directed to voice mail, which is a bit annoying normally, highly annoying when in pain.

I called my parents and my mother answered. I told her I was having severe abdominal pain. She asked me if it was more in the right side. I told her it was and in a moderately frantic voice, she informed me that I likely had appendicitis. Actually, I had sort of guessed as much.

About ten minutes later my father arrived. I was ready and before he could climb out of his car, I was walking out gingerly, a bit sweaty, and bent over in pain. My mother did not come because she is a little too wired. My father, on the other hand, is just about the opposite. He jokingly told me that the pain better not be just gas because he had gone home for his lunch hour and was watching something on TV, and had just poured a beer.

When I arrived at the emergency room they did not mess around. I was quickly evaluated, fixed with an I.V., and within about ten minutes I was being wheeled down a corridor. Apparently appendicitis can become an ugly situation if there is too much delay. Just about the next thing I remember is waking up in a groggy state in a bed with blue curtains drawn around me and a machine keeping track of my pulse.

The surgery went routinely. The next day, which was Tuesday, I pretty much laid in a hospital bed, getting up for restroom trips and mandated, painful strolls down the hallway. Wednesday morning there was no fever or any other negative signs so I was given my release. Marty drove me home. Apparently the thinking was that I was to lie on the sofa and not exert myself. At least that was Marty’s take on the situation. But I had this yearning for some split pea soup, and though Marty could have handled the task, I wanted to do it. While the soup was simmering, I decided to run the vacuum. Meanwhile, Marty sat back and watched some Olympics on TV, raising his feet just enough to allow me to vacuum the floor below them. At least one of us was getting some rest.

I still do not feel 100%, but in about a half hour we are going out for pizza. I definitely feel good enough to do that. Tomorrow I think I’ll visit the fitness center and do some gentle work on a treadmill or elliptical. I will not push myself but I feel like I have to do something. Sometime next week I might think about looking in at work and see how they’re doing without me. I have this feeling that they are probably surviving just fine.