Two Sunday’s ago I was sitting around minding my own business when a problem I had been ignoring, because it wasn’t really a problem, decided to flare. Basically, my gut started to feel as though something was trying to scratch its way out. This is a feeling that is not common for me (i.e. I have had it before), and it is a feeling that I guess you don’t want to have. Thinking that it was possibly an elevated lactose reaction (I may be lactose-intolerant) I ignored the gnawing feeling and decided to go about my business.
The problem really started about twenty-four to thirty-two hours later when I realized, after going to school, doing homework, and just then speaking to my mother, that the feeling was still there – except now it had grown in intensity. Instead of just feeling as though I had something trying to burrow itself out of me I actually felt a lot of discomfort while sitting, standing, and lying in most positions. So, with my mother on the phone, I proceeded to do the first check for appendicitis (push and quickly release on the lower right quadrant of the stomach) which proved to have a positive reaction; or which proved to be extremely uncomfortable bordering on painful. Since I was talking to my mother I stated that after checking the quadrant for appendicitis it came back positive (pain) and this caused my mother (and in the background my father) to go into parenting mode and tell me to be careful and watch out for that.
By Tuesday morning I was in even more pain, a growing sensation that was radiating into my groin – not pleasant, and was causing me to not sleep so well. I still got up, still went to class, but by this point Debbie was involved in the whole affair realizing that I wasn’t being myself, and suggested that it was time to bite the metaphorical bullet, call in sick to work, and go see a doctor. I have no health insurance and as a result of that am not in a position to readily agree to see anyone with a PhD on their wall. However, as I walked into the house after I was done with class, she said, “You look worse and you’re limping,” and I was. So, I made the necessary calls to work and my parents (to let them know I was going to the hospital) and then proceeded to wait for a neighbor to come over to give me a blessing and his wife to watch the girls.
Concords hospital, and emergency room, sit pretty close to the church. This doesn’t mean anything, just that they are relatively close to each other and as Debbie drove me to the emergency room, in my car, I got to sit and listen to her make jokes. Debbie isn’t necessarily a funny person, but she has this knack for taking advantage of certain situations. For example, that day. It hurt to laugh and therefore that was her goal. Not sympathy, or heaven forbid empathy, for a hurting fellow, just jokes and wisecracks about what was happening.
Once at the hospital, in the spirit of joking around, I checked in with a joke and a flirty receptionist… or at least flirty toward me, and then got to wait forever for the nurse to take my vitals and then the financial department to verify that they were going to bill me for every penny, and then for a room to open up. The wait was a rather long one. Really long. Longer than was comfortable, but at the same time Debbie was there to keep me company and we talked about a whole series of topics and joked around and then I was called back.
The doctor that saw me was attractive. Old enough to be a doctor, with experience, but attractive. Truth told, were she single (she is married) I probably would’ve asked her out, but that marriage thing stops actions like that… from me at least.
Anyway, she started checking me out, and up until then no one had really bothered to watch my movements, but as she was having me get up and down, and was making sure I put on the hospital gown just right (she practically did it for me) and then watching me sit up and standing she asked, “Does it hurt to move?” Well, yes it did. She kept watching me, from that point on and at one point, as I was sitting up, said, “Are you going to pass out?”
I wasn’t and I said I wasn’t, but she didn’t believe me and wouldn’t leave the room until I was standing and walking around. “You’ve convinced me you’re in pain,” she said, “now we have to find out what is causing the problem.”
Well, apparently my T cell count was not elevated. In other words, my white blood cell count was normal. I did not (and normally do not) run a fever and was at the about normal 97.4 for me (this temperature used to get me out of a lot of school). I wasn’t throwing up and there was no blood in my urine or in my stool. The long and short of it is that I was not sick. At least, according to the evidence, and there is a lot there, I should be fine – except for the nausea that I was experiencing (oh, I was nauseous as well) and the pain my get was in.
What this also means is that chances are I don’t have appendicitis which means that my appendix is not about to burst. This doesn’t mean they won’t cut you open to find out… it just means that the likelihood of me having appendicitis or ulcers or other conditions is much greater. So, with all that said the MRI (multi-resonance imaging) technician walks in carrying two bottles of a Barium isotope that I was supposed to drink over the next two hours.
“You’re getting an MRI,” he said.
“I’m getting an MRI?”
“Oh, you didn’t know. Yeah. You’re getting an MRI,” and then he proceeded to explain to me what was expected of me over the next couple of hours.
At that point I asked for Debbie to come back, and when she finally did suggested that she might be more comfortable going home since I was now going to be another three or four hours. She did telling me that I should ask for a phone when I knew what was going to be happening. I really didn’t have any idea what was happening (except to say that I understood perfectly what was going on) and said that I would call sometime after nine p.m. Debbie left, I was alone, and sat there reading a book for my history class.
Two hours later I was sitting with a large donut shaped ring around me, with what I am told are magnets spinning on the inside, my arms are perched in a rather awkward position, the nurse who put in the IV now in my left arm also watched me carefully to make sure I wasn’t going to pass out, and the MRI technician kept saying, “It’s all normal, it’s all normal.”
Yeah, the normal was the weird taste, the hot feeling racing through my body, and the feeling as though I were peeing my pants because of another isotope they’d injected into my arm. It’s all normal. It’s all normal. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
At the end of the night the cute doctor came back in and said, “Well, it’s not your appendix so we’re not going to cut you open but your intestines are inflamed along your right side. That is what’s probably causing the pain. Don’t really know what’s causing it but you need to….” She gave me a list of things to do, a change of diet, and then said, “If you start running a fever, start throwing up, or the pain gets worse,” (WORSE??) “then come back in and see us.”
Since that night I have pretty much spent my life in a semi-constant state of hurt. I changed my diet and between Thursday and Friday felt pretty good. At least good enough to go to work, but then Saturday rolled around and as I was standing there at work it all came back again. Lock. Stock. And Barrel. I was hurting, it took every ounce of energy I had just to stand there. And in the end I made it through approximately four or five hours of work and then went home.
I went to church yesterday morning, more out of a personal need to pay tithing than because I had some besotted desire to be at church when my bed was so loudly calling my name. Yet, I sat, more or less, through the three hours of church and then asked my home teacher (first councilor in the Elder’s Quorum Presidency – Andy (I live with him) is the President, I am the second councilor) to come over and give me a blessing. Andy assisted and after the blessing I pretty much went to bed and tried to forget the past couple of days.
The outcome has been that after the second blessing I am feeling amazingly better. School was okay today. There’s a new problem I get to deal with, but I am somewhat confident that the problem will find a resolution, and I started (Saturday night) writing a one act play for my playwriting class. However, through most of this, I have been very remiss in answering my e-mail. So. If you’ve sent me something and I have not replied I am still working through my e-mail.
John Hattaway | smokingpen | Alicia Grey | Clockwork Princess | Cassandra West
Real Heroes Fly