The Saga: Part I

So remember that time I made  resolutions, and like, actually wanted to keep them? Let’s look at the ones that have already kicked the bucket:

5. In 2011 I will go on a hike. Somewhere. Somewhere that involves real nature.

8. In 2011 I will do more things outside, and fewer things on internet.

10. In 2011 I will not wallow in self pity, but do something adventurous and new.

See, I had big plans. I was going to go on a hike on Saturday, I was going to start on my new novels I purchased (all 500 of them), I was going to finish my lesson plans, I WAS GOING TO EAT FISH FINGERS AND CUSTARD!

I had DREAMS!

I had ASPIRATIONS!

I HAD AN EMERGENCY APPENDECTOMY!

Yes, yes, all my dreams and aspirations were shot to h-e-double-hockey-sticks because I had to go and lose an internal organ. Well, not lose as in I can’t find it, lose as in get ready for a long and tragic story involving the removal of an organ whose purpose I am sure does not exist. (Seriously, what does an appendix DO besides hurt a WHOLE FREAKING LOT?)

To begin this whole saga, we need to go allllllll the way back to this summer. June, to be exact. *music plays as you are transported to last June*

It was a sunny morning in Florida (when is it not) and I was getting ready to go to Orlando to see the Blue Man Group. I was going with my grandparents, my cousin, and my cousin’s husband. (On a side note- what does that make him to me? Is cousin-in-law a real thing? I supposed I could google this, but why bother when I have YOU?) Anyway, we were all getting ready to go and I had a severe stomach pain. I am talking double over, instant sobbing, terrible, terrible, TERRIBLE pain in my stomach, around the belly-button area. Now, previously I had been having a lot of similar pain and I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. But this was the most intense pain I’d ever experienced. Now, I can take a lot of pain. A LOT. My mother calls me her “Silent Sufferer” because I don’t like to be a bother. But this was too much and I ended up in my grandmother’s bed (which is soooooooo comfy) and I was sweating most unfeminine like, and I was writhing in pain. I could not lay on my back, side, or stomach. Nothing was comfortable. About two hours later I ended up sleeping it off by twisting my torso in some way it was not designed to go, my feet half hanging off the bed, dry heaving, and all sorts of hot mess. But the point of the story- I slept it off.

So when I got home I immediately went to my doctor. I told her what happened, how the pain started in the belly button area, moved up to just under my ribs, then moved to the lower right side of my pelvis. And she was all “yea, this is definitely your ovaries.” So I went to a gynecologist, got a rather intrusive exam and sonogram, and they found NOTHING because NOTHING was wrong with my ovaries. So…… yeah, I’ve been misdiagnosed for quite a few years now. SUCKS, HUH?!?!?? Yes, but what sucks more is that my gynecologist was all “You don’t have PCOS, but I don’t know what is wrong with you. Keep a food diary and see if you notice patterns.”

………Yeah, that was about it. No referencing me to any doctors, no telling me what I could possibly have, just a kick out the door and a halfhearted good luck. Very sad. So I went for a few weeks not knowing what was wrong with me, all the while finishing the semester from hell and starting a new job. I didn’t have time for this stuff!

Now that you know all of THAT, let’s begin THIS story on Monday. *music plays as you are transported to last Monday*

Monday was my last day of freedom. I was going to spend the entire day in bed, watch movies, do nothing, because Tuesday started the “no-nonsense, you will finish your lesson plans Lauren Renee even if it kills you” regime. I was feeling fine all day. Soon my legs started hurting because I have Restless Leg Syndrome so I decided I would do something small. I didn’t want to ruin my all day in bed thing. So I cleaned my entire apartment. Vacuumed, mopped, swept, everything- the whole works. Then I was thinking that I wanted something to eat, but I just couldn’t bring my self to eat anything; nothing sounded appetizing. And then….. I started feeling sick. My stomach was hurting and I called my mom, because that is what grown-ups do when they do not feel well, they call their mommy, and I was all “grumble grumble I don’t feel good” and she was all “okay well rest and call me if it gets worse.” And then I called her and I was all “grumble grumble this is what it felt like when I was in Florida” and she was all “OH NO ARE YOU OKAY DO YOU NEED ME TO GET YOU” and I was all “No, I will just sleep it off.” So I went outside and told my roommate that I was going to bed, and she was all “At seven in the evening?” and I was all “DUDE YOU DON”T EVEN KNOW I feel dizzy and sick” and she was all “okaaaaaay well feel better!” And I was all “vomit” but I didn’t actually vomit because I realized I hadn’t eaten anything that day except for a little trail mix.

So I got a slice of bread and forced it down, hoping that I would throw it back up because throwing things up is infinitely better than dry heaving. At least I think so. But it did not work. So after writhing in bed trying to get comfortable and it is so not working, and I think I am dying, and it is terrible, and I am now on the bathroom floor, sitting on a pillow, resting my head on the toilet seat, still dry heaving, and crying, and finally I get up and go into the kitchen to get some water and my roommate is just staring at me because I am most certainly looking WILD. And she gave me some meds and wished me well and I called my mom and was all “YOU NEED TO PICK ME UP BECAUSE I AM PRETTY SURE I AM DYING AND I NEED TO GO TO THE DOCTOR.” And she was all “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

So there is a hospital in the town I live, but I am pretty sure diseases are born there, and so we went to the hospital in the next town over. Except we didn’t know how to get there, so we called our close family friends who actually work there (they are nurses) and they directed us and we got there and I walked into the ER crying, and the lady behind the desk looked frightened/skeptical of my sickness. So I get checked in and I’m sitting down and I am still crying and then this woman comes in and sits near me. And then this woman starts vomiting. And not only am I a sympathetic crier, I am a sympathetic vomiter, as I suspect most people are, but in this instance as you may recall, I can not produce actual vomit so I do some more dry heaving. And in between vomiting, this woman calls her mom and tells her she is in the emergency room with a terrible migraine. So I am crying because I don’t feel good, and she is crying because she doesn’t feel good, and I am also crying because she sounded so sad and alone talking to her mom and she was vomiting and I was dry heaving and it was all a hot mess.

So then I get called back and I can barely walk, let alone talk, and the nurse is very nice but I think she thinks I have the flu, so she is asking me routine questions and I am trying to answer them as fast as possible, and she is all “okay we are going to put you in a room now” so I get a room in the ER and the nurse comes in and more crying happens and the rest is a blur but I’m pretty sure this is how it goes down:

A nice doctor comes in and asks me questions I’ve already answered. I answer them again. She touched my stomach and I do not approve because 1) I am in pain and 2) I am very ticklish. She says that she is ordering some blood tests and a sonogram. A nurse comes in and asks some more questions I’ve already answered, and then tries to find a vein but my veins are NOT cooperating, so ANOTHER nurse comes in and they are both poking my veins and sticking me with needles all while I am crying and trying to stay still but mainly doing some more dry heaving. So then they find a vein and take some blood and then I go for my sonogram. I make a joke and the sonogram lady laughs. I go back to my room and it is now about 3 in the morning and I am tired and my mom is tired and I can’t sleep but boy oh boy to I vomit. A LOT. FINALLY! Except now it will not end. SO the nice doctor comes back in and says both the blood tests and sonogram came back with nothing wrong.

Oh such a familiar tune. So she said she was ordering me a CT scan, but if it showed nothing, she could recommend some doctors for me to visit. Now, remember when I told you how I came back from Florida and went to the doctor? Well they too ordered me a CT scan and I asked them to check my appendix and they said it was fine. So once again I had to down two HUGE things of Barium, a nasty white liquid that coats your insides with dye so they can look at the scan. It is one of the nastiest things I’d ever taken in my life, and I had to do it yet again. I asked the nurse if I had to drink both of them and she was all “drink the first one and then as much of the second one as you can” so I took this to mean “drink as much of the first one as you can and don’t bother with the second one.” So they gave me some pain meds (finally) and my head was too heavy to lift, so my mother held the bottle while I drank out of a straw with my head hanging over the side of the bed. It was all very sexy. I was soooooo proud of myself, as I finally drank the entire thing, and then……you guessed it. I threw it all back up. I was like a fountain. ALLL OF IT came back up. So I was forced to wait a few minutes then drink the second bottle. So two hours after that I go to get the scan and the guy asks me the same questions I’ve answered three times already and then he gives me a shot of MORE dye and I was all “why do I need the Barium if I have this” but I must have asked that in my head because he never answered me. So then I waited a long time for the nice doctor to come back in, telling me that nothing was wrong, but she was all “oh by the way, you have appendicitis.”

WOWZA.

This is the end of The Saga: Part I. Please stay tuned for MORE.

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One response to “The Saga: Part I

  1. Pingback: Two Thousand And Eleven | (im·prob·a·ble_fic·tion)

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