The sharp pain first felt at lunchtime turned out not to be a hungry stomach, but appendicitis! I found excuses for the severity of the pain for as long as possible, but after being hit with extreme nausea and pain upon standing up, I could not deny something was very wrong. I had to go to the Emergency Room (thank you Pat for the ride).
I arrived about 5pm: checked in, gave urine, gave blood, then gulped down vile lemonade for the CT Scan. Of course, the urine test was negative (NOT a bladder infection), the blood work showed active infection and the CT Scan pointed the finger at the appendix.
Except for an overnight stay when our son Lucas was born, I’ve never been in a hospital. I brag about being born at home, in a log house, in Klamath Falls, Oregon. With my diapers slung on the hook of a scale to weigh fish, I came in at nine pounds plus: “A Keeper” my dad liked to say. My mother’s OB/GYN got her to quit smoking and eat fresh vegetables. The doc even massaged my mother’s feet- I figured the doctor could relate to tired feet since she was a woman herself!!!
So as I faced the upcoming appendectomy, I thought about how this would be my first official general anesthesia. I appeared to be calm- and for the most part, I was. I wanted to live, and surgery stood between the bad appendix and the rest of my life. Dr. Archer and his assistant came to the rescue, and by 2:30 AM I looked up to see David waiting for me in the armchair of my hospital room.
No photos this time- you don’t really want to see the incisions, do you?
