Okay, here’s what I don’t understand. Why the HELL do we have organs that are useless? And, if they’re not going to do anything in there, then why the HELL do they have the ability to do anything … like, um, get infected and need to be removed?!?!?
Let me back this bus up a bit. To around Monday morning.
I woke up with what I would call a little tummy ache. Sort of like the feeling that maybe I needed to go to the bathroom, but couldn’t (you know what I mean – and, no, that wasn’t the case). Just enough to make me a little grouchy. Not enough to stop me in my tracks. I mean, I went to the gym and did a wicked-hard workout class and proceeded to do the rest of my Monday morning errands with relative ease … with a side of discomfort.
But, by the time I got Paige home from Preschool things were quickly taking a turn downhill. I couldn’t get off the couch without feeling like someone – or actually, multiple someones – was stabbing me in my mid-section. By 3:00 I had to call Derrick and beg him to come home early from work.
Fast-forward to 2:30 am, when I finally
hit gently nudged my husband awake and told him I was going to need to go to the hospital. Something was DEFINITELY. NOT. RIGHT. He wanted to wake up our girls to take them with us to the Emergency Room. In the middle of one of the worst flu-seasons ever. I looked at him like he was a crazy person.
Then I proceeded to behave like any
crazy person Mommy. And I drove my own, keeled-over, moaning self to the hospital. In all honesty, I was thinking maybe I had some crazy version of the flu or something. In my head I was going to be given a quick dose of fluids combined with an antibiotic and then be sent on my merry way.
Not so much. It was wishful thinking. Especially since on the 1-10 pain scale, I was hovering around 9.5 (folks – during labor I never listed myself as higher than a 7 … and I was probably over-estimating just to get that epidural in as fast as possible). Needless to say a call was made to Susu and Derrick quickly joined me in the ER.
I was given an IV of fluids and a pain killer that I didn’t quite catch the name of, but that I can only hope is provided over-the-counter at every single place I visit in heaven. It was wonderful.
A quick CT and some bloodwork confirmed that my appendix was indeed protesting it’s current status as an organ in my body. I was transferred up to a room and scheduled for an early morning surgery. It all went quickly and well.
Well, except for the wicked case of hives I woke up with:
I had an uneventful overnight stay. I was sort of hoping it would be restful – I kind of imagined myself sleeping through the night, waking up to the delightful sounds of bluebirds chirping. Not so much … how quickly we forgot just how crappy it is to sleep in a hospital. I finally turned off the TV at 9:30 pm, and woke up later imagining it was probably near around 5:00 am. It was 11:53. I did go ahead and watch a movie. And then watched another one when this happened again at 4:00 am.
Sooooo, the surgery was Tuesday morning, and today is Saturday. And I am PISSED. In my head, I was going to bounce right out of that hospital, maybe even stopping at the gym on the way home. Okay, not really, but … seriously?!?!?! This is crap! I am still sore, still exhausted and still keeping my reflexes cat-like (my girls alternate between using my abdomen as a ‘pushing-off’ point to get up from the couch and running at me full-force to give me hugs to remind me how glad they are that I’m home.).
I realized my limitations this morning when I was woke up feeling pretty good. Then Blair took a header off our bed while we were all hanging out. Meaning, she landed face-first onto our hardwood floors. I quickly jumped up, ran around the bed and scooped her up. She earned herself two bloody lips and a bloody nose. I earned myself what I can only imagine was a regression back to what I think was probably Thursday evening’s progress.
However, it’s not all bad.
I realized how grateful my girls are to have an active mommy. They do NOT appreciate sedentary mommy. They are going stir-crazy (they are not the only ones) and don’t seem to know what to do with me while I’m sitting around. They almost seem confused.
I realized, or rather, was re-affirmed of, just how much my girls love me. They did NOT do well waking up and finding out I was in the hospital. Paige cried when I talked to her on the phone. Blair has yet to sleep through the night since I’ve been home – she wakes up crying for me and promptly earns a spot in our bed (I can’t pick her up, so Derrick’s solution is to just tuck her in next to me. Not a great solution.).
I realized that if you’re gonna have to spend some time on the couch/in bed, it definitely helps to have two little girls that LOVE television. They are good little caretakers, and partners-in-crime.
Still. I’m ready to be back to 100%.
Gall bladder, don’t get any ideas.