Well, I'm at home with my dog, which makes everything better. I told John I'm getting logarithmically better. I feel ten times better tonight than I did this morning and about one hundred times better than yesterday morning.
It was quite a weekend. I’ve decided the events of the past few days were really an opportunity to obtain some first-hand research of our health care system. And, as the bills roll in, trying to decipher them will be another learning experience to make me a better advocate. Like John, I have self-employed health insurance through CareFirst, which is the local Blue Cross/Blue Shield. And, I'm sure they're going to prolong the pain.
Here's what happened: Last Thursday night, I developed a bad stomachache. I assumed it have been something I ate -— because it’s
always something we ate (although my partner, Carlos, had the same meal as me, and he was fine.) The pain lasted through the night into Friday morning and was located in the center of my stomach below my belly button. And, for the most part, it was just the pain, no other symptoms. Carlos knew I really wasn’t feeling well because I couldn’t take Petey for a walk. That never happens and got him concerned.
Early Friday afternoon, the pain gravitated to the right side of my stomach and got worse. The way the pain moved felt like it was right out of X-Files. I kept looking down to see if I had something inside of me. But, that’s also what started to get me a little freaked. It clearly wasn’t something I ate – and I could barely stand.
After the pain got worse (and because I couldn’t listen anymore to the echo chamber of Carlos, my mother and John, along with my friends Emily and Jacki), I headed to the Emergency Room.
The GW University Emergency Room is quite a busy place, especially on a Friday. It took a couple hours of waiting before I got to see a doctor. Then, in a quick span, I saw two other doctors who in pretty short order determined I had appendicitis. That started another whole round of testing, including a CT scan. It’s also when the pain medication began. There was a lot of in-between-time spent laying on a bed in the hallway. Naomi Seligman showed up to keep Carlos and me company. The ER is a happening place and gave us plenty to talk about. It does seem like there are more D.C. police walking through the halls of the ER than doctors.
Eventually, the CT scan came back and I started talking to surgeons who described the upcoming surgery. It was going to be done laparoscopically (unless it couldn’t.) One hears a lot about the worst possible scenarios when one is going to have surgery. The anesthesiologist was concerned that my mouth wasn’t big enough for the tube they were going to insert (jam) down my throat. That was the first time anyone told me I don’t have a big mouth.
On the positive side, I was told repeatedly by the doctors in the ER and the surgical residents that I was very lucky to be having my operation performed by Dr. Paul Lin. He seemed to be both revered and feared. One of the surgical residents told us “Dr. Lin is rock star.” He certainly had a very calm demeanor when we met. Carlos, who talked to Dr. Lin more than I did, thought he reeked of competence.
After all the build-up and tests and forms, I finally had the surgery around 6:30 a.m. It was actually a pretty quick procedure and the next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room (with a very sore throat from the above mentioned tube being jammed down my too small mouth.)
It took a couple hours to actually wake up and I ended up sleeping most of Saturday. I wasn’t able to read too much in the hospital. The drugs made me groggy and reading made me nauseous. I did get one email from McJoan from DailyKos with a friendly warning about hospital food. I read it too late. On Saturday afternoon, a tray of liquid foods was brought into my room. I was told I needed to start getting some food into my system as I’d been thriving solely on ice chips. Because I took the advice seriously and wanted to get out of the hospital, I started to eat one item, something called "vegetable broth." I should say, I tried to eat, but it made me nauseous. When I later told two of the people providing care (both with initials after their names), they independently asked if I'd eaten anything. When I said, the hospital's broth, both responded in basically the same way: "oh, no. don't eat that. It’s too salty and/or oily." So, the message from GW seemed to be: you need to eat to get out of the hospital, but don’t eat what we send you or you’ll get sick and won’t get out. Or something like that. I don't understand the logic of hospitals.
Anyway, I did get out yesterday after eating some solid food – my old standby, oatmeal with brown sugar and skim milk.
I’m still a little sore and a little tired. On the scale of major surgeries, appendicitis (when the appendix hasn’t perforated or “perf’d” as they say in the biz) isn’t too complicated. It just threw me for a loop and had a surreal feel.
Right now, Petey is growling at the balloons my cousins sent to me. He’s not at all happy they’ve invaded our apartment, but is going to keep us safe from them. But, he’s very happy that I’m home. As am I.
Thank to everyone for all the good wishes and advice. It was overwhelming and very much appreciated. And, who knew that we had such a large subculture of appendix-less people here in our AMERICAblog community.
So, thanks again. I'm glad to be back.
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