P is for Pain or What I did over Easter Weekend

 

Good Friday:

A little before noon. Sick at my stomach.

At noon. Ate two eggs fried in a no stick skillet and two pieces of toast.

At 2:30 got call from my out-of-town husband. Told him I hadn't been feeling well, but felt a little better. He said he was driving to Crossett, Arkansas, and would spend the night with friends. Then go on to Monroe, Louisiana, to catch his flight home Saturday morning.

He had considered staying at his deer camp that night.

I got to feeling worse. Went to bed.

My daughter and her boyfriend came over to do some laundry.

By now I was feeling really uncomfortable. No sharp pains. Too much pressure in my abdomen. I thought I had food poison. And I considered going to the Emergency Room.

My 88-year-old father lives with my husband and me. We have a woman come in Monday through Friday from 8 to noon, but of course we had no plans for anyone to be with him Friday night or Saturday.

It occurred to me that people do die of food poisoning. E. choli, listeria, etc. And then who would take care of my father?

Made the decision to go to the ER. My daughter drove me and her boyfriend stayed with my dad.

I felt bad enough that I didn't take a shower, change out of my robe, or put on shoes instead of my ratty old pink house slippers. I did brush my teeth and my hair.

At the Emergency Room, they collected the normal vital signs, checked my photo i.d., photocopied my insurance card, collect a list of meds I take daily, and ask for my social security number. They ask when did I eat last. How many times have I vomited? Any diarrhea? What did I eat when? By this time I am really not feeling well. They move me into a room.

They hook me up to an IV, take my blood, and everyone who comes into the room wants a list of my daily meds. Somebody already has this information. Leave me alone.

The doctor is not satisfied that my symptoms are consistant with food poisoning, and at my age she is concerned about a heart attack, so she orders an EKG. The EKG shows nothing out of the ordinary.

She orders a CAT scan.

Another doctor comes in and introduces herself as part of my surgical team. Surgical Team? What are we talking about here? Oh, Dr. So-and-So didn't tell you. No. She hasn't been back in yet. Ah, here she is now. Your appendix doesn't look right, she says.

My daughter calls our Home Care Agency to make arrangements for someone to come in the next day for my dad. Saturday. Holiday weekend. But they come through with a man named Richard Something-Japanese. Hmm. Daddy served in the Pacific during WWII. How is this going to go down?

And right behind Dr. So-and-So is another member of my surgical team who pushes my bed and me up to surgery. Or maybe it was down to or over to. I have no idea because I closed my eyes. My daughter stays right with me.

Then a nurse anesthetist is explaining to me the possible negative side effects of general anesthesia. My daughter calls my husband and asks the nurse anesthetist to talk to him. He's a veterinarian. He understands these things. I am so glad he's not staying out at his deer camp. There is no cell reception out there. (What kind of out-back-of-beyond is that that there are no cell phone towers?!) 

Then the surgeon. Again my daughter gets my husband on the phone to talk to the surgeon.

My daughter called my son in Texas to let him know what was going on. She left messages on his voice mail and his wife's. They very wisely silence their phones at night.

Fifteen minutes and I'm in surgery. By now it's 10:30, 11:00 p.m. Surgery lasts about 45 minutes. 

My daughter calls her father and her brother to let them know I'd come through the surgery just fine.

In Recovery for two hours. Only patient in Recovery. Have very pleasant conversation with staff. We talk books, movies. Well, of course we do. The younger staff member didn't know who Lauren Bacall is. Or Humphrey Bogart. In this age of NetFlix and Amazon Prime, how is this possible? It's just as well music didn't come up.

By now I'm feeling MUCH better. And it's up to my room with me and my daughter goes to my house and we both get some sleep.

Saturday is a good day. My daughter brings me my E-reader and my book Murder on Ceres on which I had twenty-nine pages to re-write. I got some breakfast. She got some breakfast and laid down for a nap. My husband called to let me know he was in Monroe and his flight was listed as on-time. I edited the final pages of my book.

My husband calls to tell me he's in Houston in line to board his flight home.

My daughter and I had lunch. And I got home before my husband did. 

Easter morning. I feel great. A little tender, but great.

I put the changes on my book into my lap-top. Saved it to my external hard drive. And saved it to an SD card. Three hundred and fifty-eight pages, 91,668 words, three-years' work. I feel GREAT!

Happy Easter to all!