gut punched, part 1

I was in the middle of writing a looooong post about how we found our new place and the absolute ADVENTURE (she said sarcastically) of buying it when something else way more exciting happened.

The week after we moved, I took vacation time, both to be able to unpack and get us settled, and also because Emma has no place to go until September 10 and I guess it’s kind of frowned upon to leave your six-year-old alone all day. (KIDDING, Mom! We totally don’t leave her alone.) Monday I decided we would get some things we needed, like sheets and milk and decorative throw pillows. I ate a bowl of cereal and the day went downhill from there. I immediately bloated up like a balloon, and I had some difficulty taking a deep breath because of the pressure. Tuesday was the same. Wednesday was worse, and I called my doctor. His nurse called me back and said he wanted me to take some prilosec because it was probably just acid. Ohhhkay. I spent most of Wednesday lying flat on my back because that was the only position that didn’t hurt. Thursday was a little bit better, and Friday was the same as Thursday.

My mother-in-law was in town on Friday, staying briefly before taking Emma back to Massachusetts to spend the week. I thought it would be nice if the three of us walked over to Fred’s office to meet him for lunch. We started out and almost immediately the pain began in my abdomen. It was high, right under my rib cage on the right side, and felt like someone was pushing VERY HARD every time I moved my legs or breathed. So, you know, constantly. 20 minutes later, we arrived at Fred’s office and I was very nearly doubled over. Fred’s building is not far from the hospital, so I just said I was going to walk over the emergency room. Fred said he’d go with me, we acquired lunch for his mother and Emma, and parted ways.

You know, it’s amazing how fast they’ll see you in an ER when you’re a woman complaining of abdominal pain and shortness of breath. I hadn’t even finished the intake process before they hooked me up to an EKG. It helped that they weren’t busy, but still. I was in a bed within 10 minutes.

Lots of different doctors (it’s a teaching hospital) asked lots of different questions and then an IV was inserted along with some pain meds. That coincided with being ultrasounded and three new doctors asking me questions at once. I was given dilaudid, a narcotic. All I could say was that my ears tingled. After the exams were done and everyone left, I looked at Fred and he just laughed. Honestly, I was not enjoying the drugs, and vocally expressed how I couldn’t understand why people actively searched this stuff out. I know. I’m such a square. (Later, they switched my pain meds to morphine, which I tolerated much more easily but gave me a crazy headache. Argh.)

My nurse was great (she said that the anti-nausea meds would work “totes fast”) and all of the doctors never made me feel stupid. Eventually I was taken away for a CT and then waited the requisite million hours for the results. When the doctor finally came in, I was pretty sure he was going to tell me my scan was clear and send me home. Until he introduced himself as a member of the surgery team.

[To be continued, aka Making You Wait Because I’m an Asshole.]

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