Scratch one useless internal organ!
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the new, improved Jonathan without an appendix!
On Monday morning, after I moved into my new room, I started to have some abdominal pain, like I hadn't eaten in a long time. It got to a pretty bad level, so I had some soymilk to try and calm it down. Then I crashed on my futon mattress among my boxes. Around 10:30, though, I woke up again to a more insistent pain, so I got up to seek sustenance. Jason offered me some food, which I accepted, and I also had some cereal, which seemed to help at first. When the pain returned, though, I laid back down and tried to wish it away. At that point, I was thinking it might be constipation or some other such intestinal distress, but it was starting to have nausea as well. After some abdominal massage and hot showers, I localized the problem to my lower right abdomen, and the warning bells started to ring. I called my mom and told her of. my symptoms, and she agreed that it might be appendicitis. She suggested I go to a clinic, then on to a hospital if they agreed it was appendicitis. I called around to a few clinics, first to a place called Downtown Medical. To my dismay, the person that answered spoke no English! I know clinics serve a large portion of non-English speakers, but that's a bit ridiculous, especially with an English name. Then I called the CarePlus clinic, and the young lady that answered was not terribly helpful; she seemed rather focused on the fact that she couldn't do anything over the phone, and that I could just walk in or check in on their website. All I wanted to know was if they'd be able to do anything, or if I should just go to the hospital. Since she couldn't really answer me, I chose to go to the hospital directly. Jason recommended the Medical Center of Plano, so I took two Advil and drove myself.
Once I had made the choice to go to the hospital, I decided to make it an adventure, so the trip was kind of fun all around. I'm not sure how the hospital staff felt about that, but I ended up with a rather pleasant experience *grin*. After checking in and getting my basic vitals checked, I was immediately admitted to a room and given a lovely little gown to wear while I waited. A woman named Debra came to draw my blood and start an IV on me. I admitted that I was squeamish about needles, but she rather effectively got the job done with a minimum of fuss from me.
Then, I waited.
The E.R. Doctor (Dr. Honaker, I just found out) poked and prodded a bit, and must've ordered some tests, because Debra came back with two jars of "Berry Smoothie", a barium sulfate cocktail to make my insides more interesting on an x-ray scan. By itself, the goop didn't taste all that bad, but 900mL of the stuff made me feel a bit ill.
***Continued, a long time after...***
Whoops, I must've seen a kitten or something, because here I am, around 6 months later, finishing this entry. Oh well. I've decided to pick up journaling, but more on that later.
I got to ride in a big machine after the "Berry Smoothie". Not so much ride, though, as sit there with large ring whirling around me, along with the occasional servo whir as the radioman refocused the miniature stargate on a different part of my innards. I napped.
When I was extracted from the thing, I was wheeled back to the same room in which I had been, and I waited for a while, I don't know how long. I watched some TV until the good Dr. Honaker came in and told me, "Well, it's a good thing you've been reading your medical textbooks; that appendix needs to come out." Yippee.
The rest of the story is pretty uneventful; they wheeled me out of the receiving/diagnostic room into the hallway, where I met my surgeon. After a time, I was wheeled into the pre-surgery area, where my anesthesiologist introduced himself and knocked me out. I woke up in a different place, with a man yelling about something; I cannot remember what he was yelling about, now. All through this wonderful ordeal, I had been keeping my friends and family updated by text message, which was kind of fun. I got my own room, which would turn out to be the most expensive hotel room I'd ever stayed in so far.
My mother came all the way up from Houston to stay with me, which meant a lot to me. It meant even more when I discovered that I could not actually sit up. Apparently, those particular muscles had been traumatized rather heavily by the surgery. I had to roll onto my side, put my legs out over the edge of the bed, and push myself up sideways. It was quite eye-opening, and humbling. Between that and the tubes in my arms and things wrapped around my legs, getting to the bathroom was, to say the least, painful and difficult.
After several hospital meals and an overnight stay, I was ready to go, and they happily discharged me. Mom took me home to Houston for several days, and I recovered enough to hitch a ride back to Dallas. On returning to work, there was a nice card and such pleasantries awaiting me.
Now I've gotten most of the bills taken care of, which is something I do not care to do ever again. Thankfully, barring biological abberation, I do not have another appendix to trouble me.
And that, ladies and gentleman, was my visit to the hospital. I would not recommend trying it until you have to.
On Monday morning, after I moved into my new room, I started to have some abdominal pain, like I hadn't eaten in a long time. It got to a pretty bad level, so I had some soymilk to try and calm it down. Then I crashed on my futon mattress among my boxes. Around 10:30, though, I woke up again to a more insistent pain, so I got up to seek sustenance. Jason offered me some food, which I accepted, and I also had some cereal, which seemed to help at first. When the pain returned, though, I laid back down and tried to wish it away. At that point, I was thinking it might be constipation or some other such intestinal distress, but it was starting to have nausea as well. After some abdominal massage and hot showers, I localized the problem to my lower right abdomen, and the warning bells started to ring. I called my mom and told her of. my symptoms, and she agreed that it might be appendicitis. She suggested I go to a clinic, then on to a hospital if they agreed it was appendicitis. I called around to a few clinics, first to a place called Downtown Medical. To my dismay, the person that answered spoke no English! I know clinics serve a large portion of non-English speakers, but that's a bit ridiculous, especially with an English name. Then I called the CarePlus clinic, and the young lady that answered was not terribly helpful; she seemed rather focused on the fact that she couldn't do anything over the phone, and that I could just walk in or check in on their website. All I wanted to know was if they'd be able to do anything, or if I should just go to the hospital. Since she couldn't really answer me, I chose to go to the hospital directly. Jason recommended the Medical Center of Plano, so I took two Advil and drove myself.
Once I had made the choice to go to the hospital, I decided to make it an adventure, so the trip was kind of fun all around. I'm not sure how the hospital staff felt about that, but I ended up with a rather pleasant experience *grin*. After checking in and getting my basic vitals checked, I was immediately admitted to a room and given a lovely little gown to wear while I waited. A woman named Debra came to draw my blood and start an IV on me. I admitted that I was squeamish about needles, but she rather effectively got the job done with a minimum of fuss from me.
Then, I waited.
The E.R. Doctor (Dr. Honaker, I just found out) poked and prodded a bit, and must've ordered some tests, because Debra came back with two jars of "Berry Smoothie", a barium sulfate cocktail to make my insides more interesting on an x-ray scan. By itself, the goop didn't taste all that bad, but 900mL of the stuff made me feel a bit ill.
***Continued, a long time after...***
Whoops, I must've seen a kitten or something, because here I am, around 6 months later, finishing this entry. Oh well. I've decided to pick up journaling, but more on that later.
I got to ride in a big machine after the "Berry Smoothie". Not so much ride, though, as sit there with large ring whirling around me, along with the occasional servo whir as the radioman refocused the miniature stargate on a different part of my innards. I napped.
When I was extracted from the thing, I was wheeled back to the same room in which I had been, and I waited for a while, I don't know how long. I watched some TV until the good Dr. Honaker came in and told me, "Well, it's a good thing you've been reading your medical textbooks; that appendix needs to come out." Yippee.
The rest of the story is pretty uneventful; they wheeled me out of the receiving/diagnostic room into the hallway, where I met my surgeon. After a time, I was wheeled into the pre-surgery area, where my anesthesiologist introduced himself and knocked me out. I woke up in a different place, with a man yelling about something; I cannot remember what he was yelling about, now. All through this wonderful ordeal, I had been keeping my friends and family updated by text message, which was kind of fun. I got my own room, which would turn out to be the most expensive hotel room I'd ever stayed in so far.
My mother came all the way up from Houston to stay with me, which meant a lot to me. It meant even more when I discovered that I could not actually sit up. Apparently, those particular muscles had been traumatized rather heavily by the surgery. I had to roll onto my side, put my legs out over the edge of the bed, and push myself up sideways. It was quite eye-opening, and humbling. Between that and the tubes in my arms and things wrapped around my legs, getting to the bathroom was, to say the least, painful and difficult.
After several hospital meals and an overnight stay, I was ready to go, and they happily discharged me. Mom took me home to Houston for several days, and I recovered enough to hitch a ride back to Dallas. On returning to work, there was a nice card and such pleasantries awaiting me.
Now I've gotten most of the bills taken care of, which is something I do not care to do ever again. Thankfully, barring biological abberation, I do not have another appendix to trouble me.
And that, ladies and gentleman, was my visit to the hospital. I would not recommend trying it until you have to.