Rest. That’s the word of my week.
Many years ago, I had a severe abdominal pain. It was so bad in fact that I couldn’t even walk. I went to urgent care and was basically sent home and nothing was done. They said my blood count was off but sent me home. At that point, I should have followed up with my regular doctor…but I was too stubborn.
Let’s fast forward a bit. Back in August, I had another intense abdominal cramping. I went to urgent care a few days after it had subsided some. It was so intense again I could not walk, I was vomiting, going back and forth between chills and sweats. When I went to urgent care, the doctor was awful. He didn’t check anything outside of telling me I wasn’t pregnant. I knew that. He didn’t need to tell me, he didn’t check my stomach or anything else.
He basically gave me some skewed version of therapy and told me that I was overly stressed and that was the problem. Then he sent me home with medicine, which he told me not to get addicted too and off I went. I didn’t even get the prescription filled. I was baffled by the entire thing. Stress? I didn’t think it was stress but maybe it was?
Then, September came and I had a full week plus was volunteering at our women’s conference at church. Then, it happened again. I had another attack, it was the same as the month before only more intense. After it passed, I was incredibly sore for days, basically like I had been beat up in the right side. I thought maybe it is stress. Maybe I’m just this stressed out about my week? I couldn’t figure it out though because I know what stress is like and it sure didn’t feel like that. I spent that entire weekend on pain medicine trying to make it through the conference.
Then, Saturday, I ended up in the fetal position in so much pain it was so bad that I couldn’t even get to the hospital. The crazy thing is it comes out of nowhere. We were at a cookout just an hour before and I felt totally fine, then suddenly I was in unbelievable pain. I laid there thinking I need to call 911, but I couldn’t move. I kept telling myself to just make it through the cramping and it would go away. On Sunday, it had passed, and I was just horribly sore. I couldn’t go to church because I was in so much pain from the night before.
I promised my husband that I would call the doctor Monday. I should add he had been on me to get to the regular doctor for a while now, again the stubbornness. They got me in Tuesday morning, then the doctor was just baffled by my entire urgent care experience. A few hours after I left the doctor she had me in for a CT Scan. I can’t handle IVs, so the minute they said IV…I told them I was allergic to those. They told me it was protocol. It took two different people to get the IV in because like I said, I’m allergic. Maybe not…but my veins don’t like them and neither do I. They ask me which arm and I said, “neither.” Then, they couldn’t get it in, which I then confirmed that I told them neither. A sweet lady came in and walked me through it and got it in. She did so good and felt like a sweet mama taking care of me.
I had the CT Scan done which this is the first one I’ve ever had done…let’s just say you feel like you are peeing your pants. As soon as that was done, the tech said he would leave the IV in, just in case I had to go to surgery. Then, I realized he was ripping it out. Yep, he ripped it out! Did he really just do that? He did. He felt terrible, I felt terrible. I had just told him I didn’t want to be stuck again!
Then, he mentioned that hopefully I don’t have to have surgery and that it would take about 30 minutes for the results.
Next thing I know, about 2 minutes after I get out of the CT scan, the doctor is calling me on the phone of the receptionist in radiology. She tells me it’s my appendix, go straight to the ER and that it’s coming out today. Apparently once it ruptures, you only have a few hours before it could become fatal. I didn’t even know that but I guess it was on the brink, but thankfully it hadn’t ruptured yet.
So, guess what? IV number 2 is ready to go! The new tech now was so upset that they took the other one out because now I had so many sticks that he had to work up a whole new plan to get the darn thing in. I may not be a confrontational person but when it comes to sticking me, I turn into a not very nice person. I can’t help it…I don’t like it. I know so many deal with far worse, so I was trying to tell myself this and to be brave…serious positive self talk was going on.
So, after that is a blur somehow within a few hours of going to the doctor, I came out of the hospital without an organ.
I think the thing that made me the most sad is that my husband and I had weekend away planned to Branson. This time last year, we had a weekend planned to Branson and my daughter ended up in the hospital…this year it’s me.
Clearly…we need a new destination because Branson is just not working for us.
That brings me back to…REST.
I don’t like to take medicine, I don’t like to sit still, and I don’t like other people doing things for me. I guess I should say I appreciate it, but I hate asking for help. It’s just not me and super hard for me to do. I’m thankful though for my family because they definitely stepped up and helped me all week.
I’m not normally one to think negatively, but I’ve really had to get myself to snap out of it this week. I am the one that basically runs the ship as most moms are and when we are out it’s just all out of whack.
I’m starting to go stir crazy at this point, but I’m still in so much pain that I can go without the pain medicine. I have high hopes I can get out of the house at least for a little bit tomorrow and look like I am semi-human again but until then…REST.
I’m told that’s what I have to do…only I don’t really like it.