"A" is for Appendix

Well, we almost had it figured out -- a reasonable plan for getting His parents moved from one "continuing care community" to another in the midst of all our busy lives. He and T had taken Thursday off to be there when the movers came and assist with all the details that go along with that. T had made a meal that could be carried in to the new place. The ex-wife (bless her) was coming over after she got off work that evening, and taking the day off Friday to help with the unpacking and organizing. I was going to meet T after school on Thursday and we'd go over and see what could be done that evening. Go back over Friday night and help with more details. Finish up Saturday morning and then bring "Grandma" home on Saturday afternoon to a home that was all set up and ready to go.

Not easy but doable. After spending the previous weekend cleaning, sorting, sifting and getting them ready to move, we were all pretty well exhausted, but we could see the light at the end of the tunnel...

Memo to self: when you see a light at the end of the tunnel, consider the possibility that it could be a train...

Anyway, with all that going on, it was easy enough to ignore the ouchiness in my belly. It started pretty low level, and I'd been so tired that I just figured it was a "bug," or maybe I'd gotten hold of something "off" at lunch and was having intestinal "issues." Didn't think much about it Thursday afternoon while I taught my classes, or packed up to go for the long weekend (there was a teacher inservice on Friday, so no kids that day, and I wanted to be sure to have all my work at home with me when I left school that night). Didn't really pay any attention to it driving over to the new place with T either. I just figured it was "gas." I helped with what I could and we ate, although I wasn't very hungry, feeling kind of icky by then. And then we headed home.

Laying on the futon at home was the first time that I mentioned to Himself that my belly ached. He was immediately concerned and wanted to know where and how long it had been going on and why I hadn't said anything sooner...? When I showed Him the spot where the pain was most intense, He immediately said that He thought it was appendicitis, and wanted to go straight to the emergency room. I was sure it couldn't be anything so serious -- it just didn't seem that severe to me. More achy than anything else. I convinced Him that it could wait until morning; that, since I had no classes, but an inservice instead, that if things were not better by morning, I would go to the doctor then after we'd had a decent night's sleep. And so we went off to a much needed rest.

The next morning, Friday, I got up, showered, used the toilet, and felt some better. "Good," I thought. "It was just constipation," and this is what I reported to Him. He was somewhat skeptical but relieved and let me head off to my inservice with instructions to call the doctor immediately if anything changed.

By 10:00, I knew I was in trouble. Things were not better but much worse. I called home to get the doctor's office number (which I'd forgotten to take with me), and called to see if anyone could see me. The receptionist put me on hold and spoke with the doctor, came back on the line and said, "No, don't come here, go straight to the emergency room at the hospital and get evaluated there." So I called home and told Him that, waited for a break in the inservice to talk with my principal, and left for the hospital, arriving there at about 11:25 in the morning.

The Heretic had to go into His office and attend to various pressing matters, and was distraught that He couldn't be with me. This even though I told Him that the emergency room was packed to the roof with patients, and that I'd been told that I would probably wait 4-6 hours to be seen. They did get me registered and someone drew my blood and took a urine sample at about 2:45 in the afternoon. Other than that, I read various outdated magazines and watched the flow of humanity in and out. Periodically, a nurse would check my temperature and my blood pressure.

At about 3:15, Himself arrived bearing sandwiches and bottled water. Since I'd eaten breakfast at 6:30, I was thrilled to see Him and the food. We ate and waited some more, now together.

I'm not sure what time it was when they finally called me back into an examining room. Clearly, they had divided all the, normally tiny, ER exam rooms, into even smaller cubicles with additional hanging curtains. The spaces were no more than maybe five feet wide, but it was a relief to finally lay down. There was a miserable stool for Him to sit on, and I knew His knees would be screaming, but there He was, right beside me. We waited some more.

T got off work at 5:30 and arrived at about 6 PM. When she got there, He took off and headed over to His parents to see what He could do to help with that process. So now T and I waited. Occasionally a doctor or a nurse came in to check. Somewhere along the line, I was taken off for a CT scan. And then back. Wait some more. Pretty soon, Himself called to say that "they" were sending Him back -- they wanted T. Seems the general feeling was that there was a lot to do and that she would be of more use in this instance (hehehehe). So she left and He came back.

Wait some more. Finally, at about 8:30 the verdict came in -- appendicitis. Gotta get that thing out of there. He was clear -- "We want Dr. Maynard." The ER doctor was more than happy to call, but one question: "when did you eat last?" When the sad truth about the sandwiches at 3:30 was revealed, that put the skids to everything. No surgery that night. Would have to wait until morning. Sigh. So then the wait began for a bed. Somewhere? Anywhere? Just about 11:30 one was found on the orthopedic floor. Surgery scheduled for 6:00 in the morning.
Morphine in the IV. Send Him home for an hour or two of sleep.

Tell the universe your plans. Watch cosmic laughter ensue.

swan