From Paradise to Hell

Posted: February 25, 2007 in General

For the two weeks before our trip to St. Lucia I had been having some mild stomach pains. Nothing that would keep me from my daily routine, but certainly an annoyance. With the impending trip I was certainly less apt to go to the doctor (of course I haven’t been to the doctor in a number of years, so I didn’t even really have someone to call anyway).

My pains continued on the trip and seemed to get slightly worse when we got back (Saturday night I got a fever and slept for 12 hours). Cara, also seemed to get sick, so we called the doctor and made an appointment. Cara, had caught some kind of a bug, but my situation was a little more mysterious, and the doctor wanted me to go to the hospital to get an ultrasound.

On Wednesday (after calling in sick on both Monday and Tuesday), Cara and I went to the hospital and they did the ultrasound. The results were a little mysterious. I had a ruptured appendix (certainly cause for my stomach pain, the odd part was why I was still walking around). I was booked for surgery that day/evening.

This is where the real pain begins. I’ve been in the hospital before, but it’s been a quick stay (as I’m sure a lot of people do). This time I was in the hospital for five days, and by the end of my stay I was a mental wreck. My stay may have been shorter, but my surgery that should have taken one hour, took three because apparently I had made a mess of things.

The first half of my stay I was on strong pain medications, namely I had a button that supplied me with Morphine. Pain meds are unpleasant, they mess with your head and I had periods of time that I would have to open my eyes to verify reality. I don’t know how much I slept (if at all), and overall it was a mentally tiring process.

Beyond that, I was not allowed to ingest anything (including water) from Tuesday evening (before the ultrasound) through Friday evening, and after Friday I was only allowed liquids (or liquid-like food). I was starving and yet, the food they were serving was the most disgusting things I had ever tasted.

Luckly, Monday afternoon I was able to return home, and I could eat whatever I wanted (although my appetite was not craving anything exotic). I lost five pounds in five days, and that’s not a good thing.

A week after my discharge I will be allowed to drive again, the week after that I should be able to go back to work, and in six weeks I should be back to my normal self, except with one good-sized scar across my abdomen.


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