Remember my whole “HELLOOOO, Bloggersphere, I’ve missed you!” post from the other day in which I apologized for being gone so long after The Plague, and promised to never leave you again? And then turned right around and didn’t post yesterday? Funny story about that – it was because I was in the ER both screaming in pain and without a decent internet connection.
I felt fine when I went to bed Tuesday night. Except that’s a lie: my stomach kind of hurt, but I’d done an ab workout, so I figured it was just rather effective. I went to bed, thought nothing of it, and then woke up at 3 a.m. with wicked stomach cramps and pretty bad nausea. I tried to fluff it off as a touch of food poisoning, but that only worked for a few hours. The stomach pain was insane, you guys. I started worrying about appendicitis, and then telling myself I was ridiculous. There was no more sleep for me, and if I hadn’t just been out of work last week during The Plague (and there wasn’t so much drama at ThePlaceThatShallBeNamed), I would have just called into work and that would have been that.
But oh, no. I started talking myself out of going to the hospital about 5 a.m. (when the question of appendicitis really took root) and into the idea of going to work and toughing out the food poisoning. It wouldn’t be pretty, but I could do it. I’d just drop the girls off at their dad’s house and race the rest of the way there. Then I’d at least be where I was going.
That was my plan. I even got up and got dressed, did my hair. Panted my way through the really shooting pains, sat on the edge of the tub when I had to, and I was still convinced my plan would work. I woke up the girls, told them they had to have cereal because there was no way I could cook, and then they pretty much got themselves ready for school while I laid down on the couch. And then when it was time to go, I stood up and about died.
And so I called the Ex and told him I needed to go to the hospital, could he come get the girls…oh, and maybe drop me of at an ER – any ER – on the way?
Things got much worse pretty quickly after that. I was doubled over in pain the entire drive to the ER. They didn’t even take my info, they just whisked me back to triage. I remember begging them to make it stop, and I remember answering a lot of questions, but I don’t remember much of that first hour. Not until the morphine kicked in. And then when it kicked out again and everyone got a little concerned. They ruled out gall stones, kidney stones, and it wasn’t until we moved on to appendicitis that they found all the internal bits my appy was connected to were a bit infected and inflamed. And by a bit, I mean that they wanted to admit me for three days while they fed me hospital-grade antibiotics. I wasn’t so much a fan of that plan, other than the fact that the morphine was barely keeping ahead of the pain. I wanted to try managing it from home once we ruled out surgery. And I almost immediately regretted my decision when I saw my drug therapy didn’t included a ton of antibiotics, anti-nausea meds, and muscle relaxers instead of pain meds [thanks for ruining it for the rest of us, junkies] and my stomach was killing me again before I even got the girls home from school, but actual medical crisis or not, I cannot miss three days of work for an antibiotic drip. So.
Here we go again! I’m back! …I hope.