Ms. Appendectomy

I had quasi-emergency surgery at 1:30am yesterday morning. It was to remove my inflamed-but-getting-close-to-bursting appendix. I am really glad I listened to my body enough to get myself to the doctor for the diagnosis.

The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.

I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.

As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.

I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.

Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!

The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.

I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.

I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.

Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.

They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!

He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.

Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.

Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.

My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.

Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.

I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.

Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.

Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.

And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.

Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.

This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.