vermiform appendix
Appendicitis is a condition characterized by inflammation of the appendix. It is a medical emergency All cases require removal of the inflamed appendix, either by laparotomy or laparoscopy. Untreated, mortality is high, mainly because of peritonitis and shock. Reginald Fitz first described acute and chronic appendicitis in 1886, and it has been recognized as one of the most common causes of severe acute abdominal pain worldwide.
I think it would be most appropriate to begin with Friday night. I was at work. I'd accidentally come in an hour earlier than I was supposed to. My boss usually schedules me for 5-close. Friday was supposed to have been a 6-close. When I came in, he ended up giving me cakes to decorate. I wasn't really feeling bad at this point. I'd been for a jog about an hour before work, so any blah or tired feelings I had I attributed to exercising when the weather was too hot. Work wasn't bad. I spendt just under an hour decorating and boxing the cakes. From 6 until 7:30 I was just working up front with Jay, Scott, and John. John wasn't even supposed to be there. He'd been at work since 1, but had to cover a shift for Mark who called in sick. I haven't talked to John since Friday, but he must've worked almost ten hours on our busiest night of the week. Anyway, I was feeling only slightly blah. My mom brought me Chinese food for dinner, which I think was at 7:30. I didn't have much of an appetite. I ate maybe a third to a half of my almond chicken, and then things really started to go downhill. When I stood up I felt dizzy. I constantly felt nauseous. The nausea would come in waves, too. Sometimes it would barely be there, but just one minute later I felt like upchucking was an immediate danger. I remember asking Scott at some point if he would mind trading shifts with me. Scott was working a 3pm to 9pm shift. If we had traded, I woud have only had to work until 9, but he would've stayed until we closed. He said no. It didn't really make me angry until I heard John ask him the same favor and Scott said he would, but that's a different story. It got to the point where I was sitting on an upturned tub of icing in the back, leaning against the freezer and sitting across from a giant trashcan. I was texting and calling every person I could possibly think of to come cover the rest of my shift. I mean, at this point I was just thinking I'd eaten bad food and gotten food poisoning. That's pretty logical, right? Right. Anyway, nobody could come in. I don't blame them. It was already 8:00 on a Friday night. I callled my manager, and he told me he was already far away from Little Rock and there wasn't much he could do. Can I blame him? Turnign around to come back for a whopping three and a half more hours an employee couldn't work? I think I finally left teh store at 8:30. I remember calling my sister and asking her to come pick me up so I wouldn't have to drive. I told her about feeling dizzy and nauseious. She and her boyfriend came; she drove me home and he drove my car home. Ah, home. Things were going to get better, right?
When I got home, of course I told my mom what was up. Our working hypothesis was that I'd gotten the virus Katie and my mother had been victims of just days before. I could deal with a virus. I went upstairs and was going to chill in my room. I started watching Boys Before Flowers. It's really a very good Korean drama. I got to the beginning of episode two when the vomitting started.
It didn't
I puked up the Chinese food.
I puked up more of the Chinese food.
I puked up the bile that was left over from puking up the Chinese food.
I puked up straight bile.
I dry-heaved.
I heaved dry.
I distinctly remember sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, sobbing. That was when my dad finally woke up. Before then, I'd been laying on the couch and my mom had been sitting next to me on the recliner. I remember him and my mom talking about taking me to the emergency room, but it was Friday night and I was puking essentially once ever hour. That was pretty much my Friday night. Puking, sobbing, and moving back and forth between the couch and the bathroom.
Finally, Saturday morning arrived. I was a little more coherent (which really means the puking had lessened and now I was experience lower abdominal pain like PMSx1,000). My mom asked me if I'd like to go to our local doctor's weekend clinic or just hit up the ER. I'm so glad I chose the ER. We finally reached Baptist at about 8:30 am, and may I thank whatever God or spirit was watching out for me because I was processed and moved to a bed (in a private room!) immediately. For an ER, things went very fast. See, one of the reasons my mom and I had at first played down the seriousness of the pain was that I never had a fever. We checked several times. Even when I arrived at the ER, I had no fever. They drew blood and took urine for lab stuffs. When those results came back, I was for sure I was just a freak of nature. My labs were completely normal. Not one thing out of the ordinary. My ER doctor went ahead and scheduled me for an abdominal CT anyway. I don't think I'll ever forget the conversation we had when he came back. He walked in and he was all smiles. Sat down across from me (lying on my side facing away from him on a gurney) and my mom (in a chair facing me) and said that my labs were normal and my urine showed no bad signs but the CT showed appendicitis and the surgeon was on his way down. Now, I'd been given Demerol for pain and something else for nausea not long ago, so I was feeling so much better and happier than I had for the past twelve hours. I had managed to convince myself that I'd made a bigger deal out of this than I should have and I probably just had a stupid virus. I sat up and gave him the most incredulous look ever and said, "wait, you mean that's a positive? Apendicitis?" He just looked at me with that big, goofy ass smile and said yes. I was so disappointed, and yet so relieved.
Eventually I was moved to get ready for the OR. That was probably at noon. I don't remember much, obviously. I remember being hooked up to a few different monitors and having to strip down and put on one of those gowns that doesn't cover shit (I mean, can I please just walk aorund nekkid? It'd make things so much easier). Apparently I went into surgery around 2pm. There was some bullshittery here. I'm pretty sure that I woke up while they were extabating me (or just after) because I remember thinking I couldn't breathe, and then when I finally could, it hurt so much to move my stomach in any way, but I couldn't stop and I started hyperventilating and freaking out and sobbing and telling the two nurses (that were holding me down?) how much it hurt, but I don't remember what happened after that. Then I remember being taken to the fourth floor where I was made to move myself (who was not awake from the anaesthesia and in copious amounts of pain) from surgical gurney to my bed. If I remember nothing else, I remember wondering why the fuck I had to scoot myself from one to the other when I was in obvious pain. I remember saying, "I can't do this. It hurts" and the nurses just said, "oh, you can do it honey." And I did. I moved. But it hurt. I wonder where my stubborn ass was when I needed to be a rude bitch. I don't remember when my mother got there. I feel asleep again pretty quickly. Well, she'd most definitely been lied to. My surgery didn't take very long. She was told she'd be taken back to see me in recovery when it was over. She didn't get to see me until 2 and a half hours later, after I'd already been moved to my room upstairs (surgery is on the bottom floor like the ER). Whatever. It was bullshittery.
I was very fortunate, considering. My surgery was laparoscopic surgery. Lasers FTW. Even though I'd been prepped with the possibility of having to do it "the old fashioned way" Dr. Fuller, then surgeon, was able to get all of the appendix with the lasers. Apparently, one of the most painful things about this surgery is the fact that they pump your abdomen full of CO2. Feeling bloated for days on end is not pleasant. There's more I could say, but I'd don't want to gross you (or myself) out anymore than necessary.
I'm at home now, and this is the most awake I've been all weekend. Shit, it's Monday isn't it? Geez. I'm probably going to sleep for the rest of today. I haven't seen my phone since Friday. I have no idea where I put it. I'll look for it later today. Jill, I didn't mean to freak you out. When I was in the ER on Saturday, I wanted to call you and ask you if you were having an amazing time. My day had sucked so terribly I knew you had to be having fun somehwere :) I didn't mean for my mom to text you and scare you. $hearts
On an ending note: I felt so vindicated when my mom called Baskin Robbins and told Jodi (cake decorator, closest thing to a manager because Eric wasn't there) about what happened. At least when I can't work, I really can't work!
Naturally, a picture to gross you out.
I think it would be most appropriate to begin with Friday night. I was at work. I'd accidentally come in an hour earlier than I was supposed to. My boss usually schedules me for 5-close. Friday was supposed to have been a 6-close. When I came in, he ended up giving me cakes to decorate. I wasn't really feeling bad at this point. I'd been for a jog about an hour before work, so any blah or tired feelings I had I attributed to exercising when the weather was too hot. Work wasn't bad. I spendt just under an hour decorating and boxing the cakes. From 6 until 7:30 I was just working up front with Jay, Scott, and John. John wasn't even supposed to be there. He'd been at work since 1, but had to cover a shift for Mark who called in sick. I haven't talked to John since Friday, but he must've worked almost ten hours on our busiest night of the week. Anyway, I was feeling only slightly blah. My mom brought me Chinese food for dinner, which I think was at 7:30. I didn't have much of an appetite. I ate maybe a third to a half of my almond chicken, and then things really started to go downhill. When I stood up I felt dizzy. I constantly felt nauseous. The nausea would come in waves, too. Sometimes it would barely be there, but just one minute later I felt like upchucking was an immediate danger. I remember asking Scott at some point if he would mind trading shifts with me. Scott was working a 3pm to 9pm shift. If we had traded, I woud have only had to work until 9, but he would've stayed until we closed. He said no. It didn't really make me angry until I heard John ask him the same favor and Scott said he would, but that's a different story. It got to the point where I was sitting on an upturned tub of icing in the back, leaning against the freezer and sitting across from a giant trashcan. I was texting and calling every person I could possibly think of to come cover the rest of my shift. I mean, at this point I was just thinking I'd eaten bad food and gotten food poisoning. That's pretty logical, right? Right. Anyway, nobody could come in. I don't blame them. It was already 8:00 on a Friday night. I callled my manager, and he told me he was already far away from Little Rock and there wasn't much he could do. Can I blame him? Turnign around to come back for a whopping three and a half more hours an employee couldn't work? I think I finally left teh store at 8:30. I remember calling my sister and asking her to come pick me up so I wouldn't have to drive. I told her about feeling dizzy and nauseious. She and her boyfriend came; she drove me home and he drove my car home. Ah, home. Things were going to get better, right?
When I got home, of course I told my mom what was up. Our working hypothesis was that I'd gotten the virus Katie and my mother had been victims of just days before. I could deal with a virus. I went upstairs and was going to chill in my room. I started watching Boys Before Flowers. It's really a very good Korean drama. I got to the beginning of episode two when the vomitting started.
It didn't
I puked up the Chinese food.
I puked up more of the Chinese food.
I puked up the bile that was left over from puking up the Chinese food.
I puked up straight bile.
I dry-heaved.
I heaved dry.
I distinctly remember sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, sobbing. That was when my dad finally woke up. Before then, I'd been laying on the couch and my mom had been sitting next to me on the recliner. I remember him and my mom talking about taking me to the emergency room, but it was Friday night and I was puking essentially once ever hour. That was pretty much my Friday night. Puking, sobbing, and moving back and forth between the couch and the bathroom.
Finally, Saturday morning arrived. I was a little more coherent (which really means the puking had lessened and now I was experience lower abdominal pain like PMSx1,000). My mom asked me if I'd like to go to our local doctor's weekend clinic or just hit up the ER. I'm so glad I chose the ER. We finally reached Baptist at about 8:30 am, and may I thank whatever God or spirit was watching out for me because I was processed and moved to a bed (in a private room!) immediately. For an ER, things went very fast. See, one of the reasons my mom and I had at first played down the seriousness of the pain was that I never had a fever. We checked several times. Even when I arrived at the ER, I had no fever. They drew blood and took urine for lab stuffs. When those results came back, I was for sure I was just a freak of nature. My labs were completely normal. Not one thing out of the ordinary. My ER doctor went ahead and scheduled me for an abdominal CT anyway. I don't think I'll ever forget the conversation we had when he came back. He walked in and he was all smiles. Sat down across from me (lying on my side facing away from him on a gurney) and my mom (in a chair facing me) and said that my labs were normal and my urine showed no bad signs but the CT showed appendicitis and the surgeon was on his way down. Now, I'd been given Demerol for pain and something else for nausea not long ago, so I was feeling so much better and happier than I had for the past twelve hours. I had managed to convince myself that I'd made a bigger deal out of this than I should have and I probably just had a stupid virus. I sat up and gave him the most incredulous look ever and said, "wait, you mean that's a positive? Apendicitis?" He just looked at me with that big, goofy ass smile and said yes. I was so disappointed, and yet so relieved.
Eventually I was moved to get ready for the OR. That was probably at noon. I don't remember much, obviously. I remember being hooked up to a few different monitors and having to strip down and put on one of those gowns that doesn't cover shit (I mean, can I please just walk aorund nekkid? It'd make things so much easier). Apparently I went into surgery around 2pm. There was some bullshittery here. I'm pretty sure that I woke up while they were extabating me (or just after) because I remember thinking I couldn't breathe, and then when I finally could, it hurt so much to move my stomach in any way, but I couldn't stop and I started hyperventilating and freaking out and sobbing and telling the two nurses (that were holding me down?) how much it hurt, but I don't remember what happened after that. Then I remember being taken to the fourth floor where I was made to move myself (who was not awake from the anaesthesia and in copious amounts of pain) from surgical gurney to my bed. If I remember nothing else, I remember wondering why the fuck I had to scoot myself from one to the other when I was in obvious pain. I remember saying, "I can't do this. It hurts" and the nurses just said, "oh, you can do it honey." And I did. I moved. But it hurt. I wonder where my stubborn ass was when I needed to be a rude bitch. I don't remember when my mother got there. I feel asleep again pretty quickly. Well, she'd most definitely been lied to. My surgery didn't take very long. She was told she'd be taken back to see me in recovery when it was over. She didn't get to see me until 2 and a half hours later, after I'd already been moved to my room upstairs (surgery is on the bottom floor like the ER). Whatever. It was bullshittery.
I was very fortunate, considering. My surgery was laparoscopic surgery. Lasers FTW. Even though I'd been prepped with the possibility of having to do it "the old fashioned way" Dr. Fuller, then surgeon, was able to get all of the appendix with the lasers. Apparently, one of the most painful things about this surgery is the fact that they pump your abdomen full of CO2. Feeling bloated for days on end is not pleasant. There's more I could say, but I'd don't want to gross you (or myself) out anymore than necessary.
I'm at home now, and this is the most awake I've been all weekend. Shit, it's Monday isn't it? Geez. I'm probably going to sleep for the rest of today. I haven't seen my phone since Friday. I have no idea where I put it. I'll look for it later today. Jill, I didn't mean to freak you out. When I was in the ER on Saturday, I wanted to call you and ask you if you were having an amazing time. My day had sucked so terribly I knew you had to be having fun somehwere :) I didn't mean for my mom to text you and scare you. $hearts
On an ending note: I felt so vindicated when my mom called Baskin Robbins and told Jodi (cake decorator, closest thing to a manager because Eric wasn't there) about what happened. At least when I can't work, I really can't work!
Naturally, a picture to gross you out.