The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Vol. 10

I am sure that all twelve of you will be happy to know that I haven't quite finished the story of my appendectomy in June. 

I had my surgery about noon on a Friday and was released that Sunday. Beata drove me home, stocked my kitchen with a weeks' worth of soups and easily digestible foods (I think I've already explained how I have the best friends ever) and I got about the business of healing up. The hospital gave me 30 Percoset pills with instructions to take two every four hours. Now if you've ever met a Hexum, you'll know that in addition to never going to the doctor, we also aren't very good at taking any sort of medications. My mom had the same bottle of Aspirin in the cupboard for my entire childhood and it's still there today. You don't want to run out because somebody selfishly used them! You save those for emergencies only. What if somebody really needs one someday? This is why I initially refused the morphine they offered me when we rocked up to the Urgent Care in Moston, Wisconsin. I figured they should save that stuff for somebody in worse shape.

So tough, and so afraid of running out, in the days after my release from the hospital I was only taking about one Percoset every six hours. If taken as directed they would only last three days for crying out loud! I had to make them last!

Anyway, Wednesday night, I woke up and couldn't breathe because of the pain in my abdomen when I expanded my lungs. I sat up in bed and breathed shallow, short breaths and tried to relax. But I couldn't relax because I was panicking about not being able to breathe. I took a Percoset. About 45 minutes of sitting up in bed, taking eight hundred million short quick shallow breaths, the pain subsided and I fell asleep. But I slept until 9 and so that was WAY too long to go without a pain pill. The following morning I was in so much pain even my toughness didn't get me through it. I called my sister Kasey crying and she told me she was coming to take me to Urgent Care. I was in no mood to go and sit in an Urgent Care, but Kasey convinced me that's what they were for. I thought maybe if I went they would give me more Percoset. How can they cut out your guts and then expect you to go home with only 30 pills??? I don't GET IT!!

The internet the nearby clinic was open at noon. After we got there the woman told me they actually didn't open until 5pm. The Urgent Care part was only evening hours. I asked if any of the Doctors had appointments available in the clinic. No, but I could drive up to Como, they open at one o'clock. We decided to get lunch and then go to Como. After a series of incredible mishaps, we didn't get lunch and started running out of time. I wanted to get to Como at 12:30 to be first in line (the lady recommended we do that). 

So we did.

And then my hair got stuck to the wall.

And then we waited after they took my blood for hours and hours for the results, which were normal of course, and basically the only result of the whole visit to Urgent Care was that the Doctor yelled at me for not taking my medication AS DIRECTED. I told him I didn't want to run out! He said, take it as directed and you won't need anymore after you run out. He told me to set an alarm for every four hours even when I slept, and wake up and take a pill. He said, if I wanted, I could buy a bottle of Tylenol and take one Percoset with one Tylenol. This would double the pain medication without doubling the narcotic which is what was making me feel so loopy. 

He also started looking through my records and saw that I had been prescribed Atavan. He goes, "it says here you have a fear of the unknown?" I go, "well, I guess we all do? But actually I got the prescription in 2009 because I was about to travel the world and I'm terrified of take-offs and landings on a plane. Maybe can you put fear of flying?" "Oh OK I'll update that" he said. And then he saw that I had been prescribed some medicine for the herpes on my nose. He said he was going to change that too because he didn't like how it said 'on the nose' and I didn't say this, but I kind of like how it said that because then it could set me apart from the other people who get herpes in other places. What I did say was, "Hey can you give me some more of that, I feel a little one coming on right now". And he said "Sure".

...on THE NOSE, people. THE NOSE

 

He sent that prescription to the Pharmacy at the clinic and after five hours, and a very crabby me because I accomplished NOTHING in this visit except to get this stupid herpes-nose pill which doesn't really work anyway, oh and learn that my white blood cell count was normal, so nothing weird was going on internally, oh and also he told me to take my Percoset more often and he gave me the tip about taking one with a Tylenol (which I liked because as a former poor kid I like to make things last by adding another thing to that thing. It's why I put rice in my chili and saltines in my mac & cheese).

We went to the Pharmacy at the clinic but they told me that the prescription was sent to the Walgreen's by my house. I was so crabby by this point, but I didn't want the whole freaking day to be a waste and I did need to get some Tylenol so I made Kasey drive me to the Walgreen's by my house. 

Kasey sat in the car while I went to the Pharmacy and asked for my prescription. After standing in line at the Pharmacy behind everyone and their crazy brother, here's a reenactment of my turn with the Pharmacist:

This guy had no idea about my appendectomy or my Percoset. All he knew was that I needed my Acyclovir. For my unspecified Herpes.

Summer-isms, Vol. 69 (The Appendectomy)

"Can I eat this? Is this floor really dirty or really clean?

"No backwards somersault butt push-ups for you young lady."

"Oh no! What if you're like Sampson and your power was your extroversion and your appendix was your hair?"

"Oh no! What is that? Oh. Poop."

"And yes, every decision I make is for your sweaty boobs."

Soul Glo, (An Appendectomy Aside)

I ended up in Urgent Care sometime after being released from the hospital and that's a whole other long forthcoming story (thanks for your patience).

Basically I had a very bad night of pain and my sister Kasey graciously took me in and sat with me for what turned out to be a five-hour ordeal. Most of that five hours was spent waiting for the lab results on a simple blood draw to confirm that my white blood cell count was no longer elevated. And most of that waiting was spent in the chair that you sit in while a nurse takes your blood pressure inside a room within the Urgent Care. Kasey took the extra chair near the door and we chit-chatted about this and that. Mostly how IRRITATING it is to go to Urgent Care and wait for five hours.

During this chit-chat I rested my head on the wall.

At some point I moved my head. 

But my hair was stuck.

To the wall.

I screamed and she unstuck it and we looked to see what was so sticky. Well, it was the collective greasy-head spot of all the previous patients. Obviously.

Well, would you have believed me if I hadn't taken a photo?

So, here we have two Hexum girls, alone in a Doctor's Office with a grease spot on the wall, right where one of their heads were resting just moments earlier.

Here's what happens next. And you can apply this to basically any uncomfortable situation a Hexum girl might find herself in. It's a pretty standard, no-deviations formula:

1) Freak Out

2) Breathe Lamaze-style

3) Dance quickly, back and forth, from one foot to the other, arms bent at elbows, palms pulsing down toward the floor

4) Continue breathing Lamaze-style. (Never stop breathing Lamaze-style)

5) Take a photo

6) Fix the problem, so that nobody thinks you did it. Do this QUICKLY so nobody catches you doing it

7) Freak Out again

8) Breathe, Lamaze-style

9) Laugh hysterically

10) Start crying from laughing so hard

11) Laugh more because she's crying too

12) Cross legs to prevent pee from coming out

13) Laugh at other Hexum girl doing same

14) Pee a little

15) Grab crotch with one hand to stop the pee and wave opposite hand in front of face

16) Say maniacally, "I PEED A LITTLE!"

17) Laugh at her for saying "ME TOO!"

18) Repeat steps 8-16 until somebody walks in the room

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Vol. 9

So I lay in the hospital, in and out of sleep for a day-and-a-half while nurses took care of my every need. Summer brought movies and I slept through them and there was a TV but I could barely hear it plus I was so SLEEPY.

I got to have broth (and fell asleep while eating it) and then they gave me a menu and I could pick whatever I wanted! I wanted macaroni and cheese. I mean there were so many options, it felt very luxurious. In retrospect I'm sure that macaroni and cheese was probably $475 but it was free at the time and that was pretty cool.

They kept telling me to WALK WALK WALK because you gotta get your poop churning so you can leave the hospital. I mentioned earlier that they pumped me up with CO2 and that's really uncomfortable plus my guts had just been all cut up and so I was working really hard on farting-slash-pooping. The more gas I could get out of there, the less pain and more relief I would feel. It became my "job" to fart. So they taught me how to roll to my side and then get out of bed without using any stomach muscles and a nice MA called Pemba or Phema was assigned to take me for a walk but I was scared and so I held his hand and we chooched* all around the corridors of the hospital and it was SO romantic to be holding hands with a man, even though he was quite elderly. It's so rare for me to get to hold hands and I loved it! I was highly embarrassed though when Pemba or Phema put me back into bed and I think he saw my naked butt.

I saw this one jerk and he was choochin' so fast all by himself and I was like, "you think you're SO COOL without your helper and your IV stand" and he was like, "don't worry, you'll get there" (which was a pretty nice thing for him to say, I gotta admit) and he was right! Eventually, I didn't need my helper and then I didn't need my IV stand and then it was me choochin' so fast all by myself.

So. Farting.

One time, the nurse was in my room and I farted really loudly for like 17 seconds. We held eye contact the entire time, me embarrassed but excited, and she a cheerleader looking at me like "keep going! you're amazing!" and I did keep going and then I felt like I had to go number 2 RIGHT NOW and so I scooched to the the edge of the bed and rolled onto one side and slowly got up. I started to walk to the bathroom and looked back to make sure my tubes were all in order and I saw that I had pooped a streak from the center to the edge of the bed.

I wanted to DIE. 

The nurse was still in my room! "I pooped the bed", I told her from behind the bathroom door, humiliated.

"IT'S ALREADY GONE. DON'T BE EMBARRASSED."

"OK. thanks. I'm also going to need a new gown."

And that is why nurses are just the nicest people in the entire world. 

Miyo, who REFUSED to get in bed with me even though I begged and begged. She preferred to sleep on the RADIATOR than cuddle with me. Little turd.

These two, I did not beg.

*chooch is a Shash-term, which means walk, basically. Go for a chooch. Just choochin', etc.

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 8

...Once they saw I was alive and sufficiently annoyed, Beata and Summer felt safe to go home and get some much needed rest after having been awake for more than 30 hours. My sister Kasey brought a book and sat with me for the rest of the day. I was so touched that somebody was willing to sit there for hours while I basically slept.


Oh, and take pictures and post them to Facebook:

• Kasey: She was half asleep eating that. And then asleep. That's how she fell asleep with her bowl under her chin. Same profile. The nurse came to check and we laughed that I didn't move the bed down and put the table to the side. I forget to take pictures. I was reading a book because she would fall asleep mid-sentence.

  Kady: I fell asleep eating?!?
• Kasey: You got what you needed and fell asleep. Like a babe at the teat.
• Dianne: Yes, except at the teat, her eyes would roll back in her head.
• Kady: Mom!!! Stop embarrassing me in front of my friends!!

• Kasey: In her room. In and out of hilarious eye opening. Sometimes just her eyebrows go up, but the eyes remain closed. And her speech is that of a 98-year-old alcoholic who is very tired.

I guess I should have expected that my jerk of a sister Kasey would photograph me and then post to Facebook -- after all she had her gallbladder out last November:

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 7

...And then they wheeled me in to surgery and all of the sudden I got very scared because SURGERY but it was too late and then I woke up. I remember feeling like I had just had a very vivid dream about work. And then I was glad I wasn't at work, and "oh yeah. surgery." So I was like "oh man you guys I was dreaming about work" but then I got back on my game, and as per usual I took it upon myself to brighten the days of the post-op staff with a little hilarity and, of course, as is so common with me, the oh-so-typical resultant accolades taking the form of laughter.

"WHERE IS MY SON!? I DEMAND TO SEE MY SON! WHERE. IS. MY. SON?!?!!" I screamed, in as dramatic a movie voice as I could muster.

Nobody laughed. You know I think now, after all this, that Doctors and Nurses and Anesthesiologists are more concerned about things like "white cell counts" and "oxygen levels" and "blood pressure" and "are you alive?" and "how do you feel?" than they are about having a good laugh. I guess that's why they studied the sciences and we all studied the arts. I heard my post-op nurse say to somebody walking by, "this one's a jokester", as if to explain why her patient was embarrassing her.

Oh man this guy next to me would NOT SHUT UP. He was talking about all kinds of stuff. And he was all like mad and being mean to the post-op people. It was so clear to me what he was talking about and it was SO ANNOYING. I couldn't WAIT to tell everybody all of the details of absolutely everything he was complaining about. Here's me later, telling that story (in my favorite Summer-Grimes-filmed-appendectomy-video that never fails to make me LOL):

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 6

...So maybe I did, and maybe I did not shove a Vicodin pill up my butt somewhere near the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota -- and maybe my butt did and maybe it did not basically grab that Vicodin pill out of my trembling hand and suck it up into oblivion. Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't fascinated by how well my body seemed to accept and in fact welcome it. I'll never tell. Because I'm a lady. Who reveals nothing.

What I will tell you is that Beata drove like a madwoman from Tiny Town Wisconsin to Minneapolis on a straight shot up the I-94 and we made it there in no time. I slept for most of it. My appendix did not burst, thanks goodness and when we peeled into the ER at Abbott Hospital they were primed and ready for us. All credit to the nice folks at the Tiny Town ER, who called ahead and let Abbott know all the details and that I was on my way.

I was admitted immediately into room 12, I believe, but how can one be sure of such minute details when one is under the influence of a Vicodin one may or may not have shoved up their butt?

Everybody at Abbott was great. They agreed with my decision to come back to Minneapolis and almost everybody I spoke with wondered why a relatively young Wisconsin surgeon "didn't do laparoscopic" "appies". The fact that they called it an "appy" made me feel at ease almost immediately. If you know me well you know I like abbreves and especially ones that end in a "y" sound. Also you don't give a pet name to a surgery you're not performing on a daily basis. At least I don't think you do. 

From here things moved pretty quickly and I think basically I just had to sign a bunch of stuff and then my sister Kasey and niece Miyo arrived and Summer's brother Justin and his wife Kassie got there and we all sat around joking while I tried not to think about what was going to happen to me.

One time my gown feel completely off when I tried to get up from my bed to go pee, and the door was open to the whole ER:

OOH, and I always love it when they ask me if I'm married! Rita, the Nurse Anesthesiologist seemed very surprised that nobody loves me and then when I asked her to "find me a good one" she confessed that there weren't that many single people around Abbott. Which is bull crap because Dr. Mumm was pretty adorable and I might have even told him so. I can't remember.

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 5

Where were we?

Yah. Escaping the confusing Emergency Room in Tiny Town Wisconsin and speeding back to Minneapolis without hitting a deer.

I was worried about the three-hour trip. When my morphine ran out a few times in the ER, it was painful. Bad. So I asked the nurse to shoot me up the minute before we left and asked what I should do if I started to feel pain in the car.

"Well, you're not allowed to eat or drink anything before surgery, so I can give you a Vicodin...but..."

"But what?"

"You can't eat or drink anything."

"So how am I gonna?...Where does it...?"

Her face got serious. She handed me a glove, the pill and some lubricant.

"...OH."

Never forget. 

"For all the good it did me, I coulda shoved it up my hind-end." -Hal

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 4

I know this appendectomy story has gotten quite long, but I'm not even sorry. Because. So, where were we?

Yah. Surgery. 

The Wisconsin nurses asked me if I had ever had surgery before, and I said, under heavy doses of narcotics, "I think I'm fully intact other than my wisdom teeth."

After the results of the CT scan were clear, and it was obvious that I needed to have an appendectomy, I met with Dr. Birkenstocks again (while he literally sat on the floor of my hospital room. I have video, but that would be mean) to express my concerns about being in the "middle of nowhere" and asked my questions about this scary surgery. The following is our conversation, loosely based on the facts, as remembered by someone who was on morphine at the time. 

"I'm on a road trip. Can I still go on the road trip?"

No.

"OH, so is there any way that I could go back to Minneapolis and have the surgery at Abbott Northwestern Hospital? It's like a mile from my house."

No. Look, whatever happened to you in the last 24 hours to cause this attack, well it worked fast and the next thing to happen is your appendix is gonna burst. We need to get it out of there. It's really a miracle that it hasn't burst already. 

"OH. OK. So, how long is the surgery?"

45 minutes.

"How long will the recovery be?"

You'll be released probably tomorrow, and you'll need to rest, but you'll be back to normal activities in about two weeks.

"How big will the scar be?"

It will be tiny. They'll go in with a small camera to do an exploratory review of the situation. If everything is as we expect, they will then remove the appendix. 

"OH. OK. So my friends won't need to get a hotel room then...in this town, right? We can all stay here tonight and we'll most likely be on our way tomorrow?"

Yes. If things go well you'll be out of here tomorrow. 

"Can they sort of do the scar, like, below my bikini line? I mean, I don't want to be a Princess, but, you know, I like to whip out my chubby stomach at parties to be like funny and it's kind of my thing...it's this thing I do...I mean I don't really want a scar ruining my schtick."

Yes. There will be three small holes and whatever we can get under the bikini line, we'll get under the bikini line. Look, the surgeon will be here soon. You can ask him all of these questions when he gets here. We'll get a printout of the CT scan and he will review it with you, and show you exactly what's going on, and where the incisions will be and, I'll warn you: He'll probably be a little grumpy from having to wake up at 2:00 in the morning, but he's the best one to answer all of your surgery questions. 

And then Summer and Beata and I all fell asleep and waited for the surgeon and his staff to get to the hospital. Or, should I say, Beata and I fell asleep:

And then the surgeon and his team got there and it was time for surgery! I could see five or six people standing outside my room all in blue and "scrubbed up" and I started getting nervous. The Nurse Anesthetist came in and asked me a few questions and I asked him a few questions and then I signed something. Then my surgeon and his PA came in the room and asked if I had any questions for him. I was a good participator and asked him, gosh, you know I just remembered that I have a ridiculous [Dad: you might want to sit down for this part] ladybug tattoo that I got 15 years ago [It's true. I have a tattoo. I've successfully hidden it from you since 1999 when I got in in San Francisco when I was stupid and 22-years-old. Don't be mad. I love you. And you didn't come to any of my student-teacher conferences or marathons or my surgery] and the ladybug would look really dumb if they sliced it open, could they maybe avoid it during surgery? He asked me to show it to him and looked very confused when he saw that it is sort of near my hip bone. He said his incision would be nowhere near it. And then I got confused. More conversation:

"So, where exactly where will you put the three small incisions? I was told you could try to get most of them below the bikini line?"

Who told you that? I don't do laparoscopic surgeries. I do open surgeries.

"WHAT?! HUH? Everybody since I got here told me it was laparoscopic. Don't they always do appendectomies laparoscopically? Um...OK...well then can you make the incision below my bikini line at least?"

*laughs, condescendingly* Your appendix isn't below your bikini line.

"Well then where will the scar be?"

*laughs* It will be about 5 inches long, from here to here *draws imaginary 10-inch diagonal line from just under my rib to well below my belly button*. How does this feel? *jabs my appendix HARD several times* 

"OW! It hurts really bad! Oh man, that's terrible news -- I really don't want a big scar like that...can you show me the CT scan now please? I'm so curious about exactly what's going on here and I need a second to think about this scar."

*laughs, incredulously* I don't read CT scans. The radiologist reads CT scans. 

"I was told you were going to review it with me before my surgery."

*laughs, then huffs* Who told you that?!?

"The ER Doctor! Look, I'm getting the impression that you feel like I'm asking you a bunch of stupid questions, and I can see that we got off on the wrong foot here, but please understand I'm just repeating to you what was told to me. I was told that it was a 45-minute laparoscopic surgery, that I would probably be released tomorrow, if all goes well, and that I will recover pretty quickly but just be unable to do any physical activity for about two weeks." 

*now he's really mad* The surgery is three hours. You will be in this hospital for no less than three days. You can't do any physical activity for six weeks.

"Whoa. OK. My friends would have to get a hotel room here. Everything you're saying is so different from everything I was told. Wait, I can't ride my bike for six weeks?! I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable. I'm so sorry -- I'm just feeling like I would much rather go back to Minneapolis to have this surgery. There's a hospital about a mile from my house. Is there ANY way that I can safely get back to Minneapolis to have this surgery?"

*to his credit, he softened here* Kady, I want you to be comfortable. You don't seem comfortable. If you want to go back to Minneapolis, you should go back to Minneapolis.

"So are you sure my appendix won't burst in the three hours it takes to get back to Abbott? They started me on one bag of an antibiotic to prep for surgery. They said there were two bags. Maybe we could finish the second bag, and then you could give me another shot of morphine right before we leave to last me the car ride and are you sure my appendix won't burst?"

Of course there are no guarantees, but the way I see it, your biggest risk on the drive home would be a speeding ticket. And don't hit a deer.

OK. Can you give my friends and me just a minute to deliberate?

And then he left. Summer and Beata looked at me and I think by now I had tears in my eyes. I said, "will you guys please take me to Abbott? I don't want you to be scared, and I know I'm putting you in a terrible position, because I know you don't want my appendix to burst in your car, but I just think I really wanna go to Abbott" and they were like YES, OBVIOUSLY WE GO TO ABBOTT (I love them). And then it was basically just like in that scene at the end of the movie Big Fish (the first 1 minute and 35 seconds from the clip below), and they got me outta that place!! (Not before asking the nice people to call ahead to Abbott and explain the situation and tell them that we were on our way. And then the Wisconsin hospital people asked us how to spell "Abbott").

And then Dr. Birkenstocks came back in the room, and apologized profusely for the misunderstanding. I said, "listen man, NO HARD FEELINGS. I am so happy with my treatment here. Everybody has been really great. But I'm vain and I don't want a scar, and I wand the shorter recovery of a laparoscopic surgery and would feel so much better to do that recovery closer to home. We don't even know the NAME of this town! Where are we? And these two, they can sleep in their own beds. And please tell those ten people out there I AM SO SORRY that they had to get out of bed and drive all the way here and now I'm not having my surgery here."

And then they packed up their smorgasbord picnic and helped me escape!

First 1:35 of this clip = Summer and Beata busting me out of middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin hospital:

Appendectomy Aside...

Maybe you did and maybe you didn't notice the weird sink in a previous post about my Appendectomy...

This weird sink:

I am SO proud of myself for figuring out how to get those arrows on there.

We found it very strange and "middle-of-nowhere-Wisconsin"(?) that there was this extra weird sink and so we tried to figure out its' purpose. Upon closer inspection, we found out there was totally a poop-streak in it.

Now...how?...I mean, it's not a place you can sit down for a nice poop, and so the obvious conclusion is that this is the sink where the nurse empties the bedpan, right? So it's like a vicarious toilet. Doesn't that seem like the only logical explanation? And so, then logically, wouldn't it make sense, also, that the SAME NURSE would have absolutely noticed the poop streak and given it an extra flush? 

Is it just me? Or is that what should have happened? 

Exhibit A

This was an obvious photo to stage. Beata was so scared. HA!

"Beata! Relax. You're not going to get poop on you! Now don't laugh."

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 3

...The morphine took about an hour to fully take effect and then I was in much better spirits during my hospital stay. We were told that a CT scan would be the next step in determining whether the gallbladder was in fact causing the pain in my upper abdomen. Summer, Beata and I settled into the idea that our road trip plans were probably pretty much ruined, though we held out a glimmer of hope that maybe the CT scan would reveal nothing was wrong after all (typical whenever I have decided to finally go to a Doctor in my life) and that perhaps we could continue on, albeit delayed. 

I had to drink something so that my insides would glow properly for the CT scan. I don't know if it was Barium or what, but the cup said Barium, and I was on morphine so I went with it:

This nice lady arrived with a wheelchair to deliver me for the CT scan. First class service all the way. Nothing less for this fancy lady: 

At some point however, I began to wonder if I really truly need to be in the hospital...I mean after the morphine takes effect, let me tell ya...and p.s. you know how I initially refused the morphine? Here's a tip I received via text from Summer's RN sister Holland: "Kady. Rule # 1: Never refuse Morphine."

In addition to the Barium or whatever it was they had me drink, they injected me with two very scary looking vials of cloudy liquid, which I was warned would feel immediately warm, and the warm feeling would congregate in my crotch and would feel like I was peeing myself. This turned out to be all 100% true. That is exactly what it felt like, warm and weird and then a burning in my crotch. And a feeling like I was peeing myself. Anyway, other than that it wasn't bad. I'm very claustrophobic and was terrified of the idea of a "CT scan", imagining an MRI tube-like-machine, but this thing was no bigs...more like a big donut than a tube, and never even came near my face.

They immediately uploaded the images to a radiologist in Madison and after two hours, it was determined that my gallbladder looked totally normal. But he or she (I like to imagine it was a she, because this was a BRILLIANT call) didn't like the look of my appendix and ordered up two additional views of my innerds. Back to the wheelchair and back to the first class fancy lady service and back to the CT donut machine. Apparently said appendix had moved up into the upper part of my abdomen (this is rare, but it happens enough that it's called something like "lateralizing" or at least that's what I think I remember them saying) and that's why I didn't feel any pain in my lower right quadrant -- where appendicitis typically presents itself. Dr. Birkenstocks did a couple of push tests and lifted my right leg and exactly where he was pushing and lifting I felt excruciating pain. The new CT views confirmed it. Acute appendicitis it was. Get this though: acute appendicitis caused by an appendicolith, aka fecolith, aka fecalith, which I and the Doctor took to calling a "shit stone", because that's exactly what it is. Look it up.

And then I told the girls, "I KNEW this was gonna be shit-related."

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 2

...So the girls brought me to the Urgent Care, in Who-Knows-Where, Wisconsin. I had been doubled over in pain for nearly 12 hours, and dry-heaving for five so they were a bit concerned, and it turns out they were right to be. 

The Urgent Care people rushed me right into a room and those blessed caregivers hooked me right up to an IV (I was so dehydrated they could barely find a vein to poke), gave me MORPHINE after I repeatedly refused it (I did not want to take a crazy medicine known to make people nauseous and addicted when I was already feeling SOOOOO sick, and plus isn't morphine for people who have serious problems???), took a blood sample which showed that my white cell count was up to 20.9 (normal being about 11 or 12) indicating that my body was trying to attack something. I mentioned that my little sister Kasey had to have her gallbladder out a couple months prior and my mom had hers out when she was pregnant with me and all of my symptoms seemed to point to a probable gallbladder attack. A CT scan would get us closer to finding out. I was congratulated for not having eaten or drank anything for at least several hours because I was probably heading for surgery.

SURGERY??? I DON'T GET SICK. Well at least I had Summer Grimes there to document the whole thing:

I guess my veins are very tiny.

Summer's concern may have been feigned, but this pain-face was very real.

They set about dividing my assets right away. Brand new Dior lipstick got dibbsed by Beata.

Dr. Birkenstocks. At one point I apologized and asked if he could smell my stinky breath and he said, "well it doesn't smell like peppermint" and I about died.

Hospital beds are more fun with friends.

Super stinky breath. Well, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in hours, and spent the whole day puking. Whatdya expect?

I love these two.

Obviously because we were on a weekend road trip, we had a carful of food. And obviously, after five hours of driving, these jerks were starving, but did they have to lay their smorgasbord out right in front of me? It's like they were already dancing on my grave. Well, they did save my life. And check out my pedicure:

The Evolution of an Appendectomy, Volume 1

It all started with a road trip with my two best friends. I didn't feel well and in fact that morning, I didn't finish my breakfast. I ALWAYS finish my food so that was a little weird. I figured it would pass though and decided to tough it out for a few hours.

Immediately after we got on the road I yelled, "pull over!" and that was pretty much how it went for the next five hours. 

I puked a million times, all across Wisconsin.

And they took video, because they're my best friends.

These are screen shots from the videos, since I didn't want to subject you all to a bunch of puking noises, aren't I nice?

Happy, happy puking girl.

AT some point they realized they should hold my hair back and be REAL best friends:

It took us five hours to go three. I wasn't actually puking anything up, but more like dry heaving and I was in a lot of pain. After a while of me crying in the back seat it wasn't funny anymore. Well, it was funny. But more like awkward-funny:

So eventually they started to bring up the idea of going to the Doctor. And I don't go to the Doctor, so I was like, "I ain't goin' to no Doctor!" But then one time we had to pull over on the side of the freeway, with semis and cars passing by at 80 miles an hour and it was very scary and I couldn't puke but I couldn't stomach the idea of driving, either. They found a Walgreen's pharmacy 16 miles up the road, to see if maybe the Pharmacist had something to make me feel better. He said you gotta take her to the Urgent Care -- it's just a couple miles away. So they did. And I quit arguing because it hurt so bad.

First of Many Posts About my Emergency Appendectomy

An email I just sent to my entire office:

My surgeons injected my stomach with a bunch of C02 so they could laproscopically get that appendix out of there (I guess it makes it easier for them to see things and isolate others). They didn't pop me like a balloon though when they were done, so at the moment I definitely look pregnant.

Apparently, some of the gas will re-absorb into my body. But then some of it has to come out (if you know what I mean). I have been instructed by Medical Professionals that I need to be farting as much as possible.

Anywho, I have decided to embrace my gassiness. I’m home alone working right now and every time the good lord blesses me with a nice round trumpet fart, though very painful, I throw up my hands (to no one) and exclaim, “Doctor’s Orders!”


You can expect this as normal office behavior from now on.