This is an unedited version of my original posting on morons.org (now defunct) on June 13, 2005.
This isn’t written grammatically well. I’m still in pain.
After taking spatula out for dinner on Friday the 10th of June, my fiancée and I dropped him off to his candlelight vigil (at the Ventura stop during the AIDS Lifecycle ) and we went home. Since she had plans for early in the morning, she went to bed while I contined the never-ending unpacking. I had a slight stomach ache, which I attributed to the extremely delicious, but rather large amount, of crab (dungeness, snow and king) I consumed. I went to bed at about 12:30.
6:00am: ouch, my stomach is KILLING me.
7:30am: got out of bed, all hunched over, and... erm... had a morning constitutional. stomach stills hurts. figured I was hungry, so I ate a couple bowls of cereal and a glass of OJ. Still in pain. Went back to bed.
9:30am: called my fiancée and told her I needed her to take me to urgent care. She recommended trying some Pepto, first. Took the Pepto and immediately regurgitated breakfast. Called her back and said come get me. Got in the shower.
Unable to dry my hair. She combed it out and tied it into a tail. Managed to make it down the stairs. Not easy. Brought a small trashcan, just in case. (Lost track of time at this point. Never experienced this kind of pain in my life, and I had a kidney stone once). Tossed my remaining stomach contents into the aforementioned trashcan.
Clumsy nurse had to make 3 attempts to draw my blood and then asked for a urine sample. I staggered down the hall to the bathroom to provide one. Staggered back. White blood cell count up. "You should have gone directly to the hospital." No shit. Thanks.
Fiancée took me to the hospital. Lots of immensely painful bumps on the road. Once arrived at the hospital, she got a wheelchair to take me in. Unable to really walk at this point. I am in tears from the pain. I could her in the background talking about me, trying to get me some painkillers. "Not until the doctor sees him." Not sure exactly when, but heard something about "4 hours until surgery". I cried some more.
More blood tests, IV put in, and demerol. Wears off, doesn’t help much, anyway. More demerol. More demerol. Wears off quicker. Morphine. Tired. Questioned. "Who is your emergency contact?" Gave fiancée’s name. "What’s her phone number?" Gave her cell number... I think. "Hello? You still with me? What’s her phone number?" Provides it again. "Should have got this before the morphine".
Woke up, thinking it was time for surgery. Wasn’t. It was over. Brought me down to my floor. Fiancée there, with her mom.
12:30am, according to the clock. More morphine. An automatic blood pressure machine that goes every 15 minutes to wake me up. Fell asleep. Fiancée and her mom go home.
3:50am: "If you don’t urinate by 5:30, we’re putting in a catheter." Thanks. No pressure.
5:20am: Can’t pee. Don’t want catheter. Beg for more time. Falls asleep.
7:30am: Wake up. New nurse. Tell her what last nurse said. "Idiot. Let’s get you up to the bathroom. Most people can’t go laying down in bed." Painfully struggle to bathroom and FINALLY pee. Back to bed. Note that I am on my 4th liter of IV saline. They’re trying to kill me.
9:00am: Asian surgeon with heavy accent tells me I can go home this afternoon and can wash incisions in 48 hrs. Schedule an appointment for 1-2 weeks for followup.
9:30am: Breakfast consists of chicken broth, nasty gelatin, apple juice and hot tea. Tea dries out my mouth. More sleep.
11:00am: Fiancée arrives. Mean nurse shows up and asks about breakfast. Said it should have been solid. Tells me to get up and start walking around.
1:30pm: Lunch duplicates breakfast. Sleep more.
2:15pm: Mean nurse asks about lunch. Says it should have been solid.
2:30pm-4:00pm: Walk around, go back to bed. Fiancée gets pain prescription filled at local pharmacy.
5:30pm: Dinner is also liquid. Clumsy nurse opens containers before moving table over the bed, spilling contents on the tray. After finishing dinner, another nurse comes in and says it should have been solid. Provides menu and advises me to select items. Mean nurse comes back in and says that was a waste of time, and she’ll bring whatever is available. I have slimy turkey breast.
7:00pm: WALK out of hospital. No wheelchair. Spend night at fiancée’s parents house. They have no stairs. I do at my apartment. Still in pain.
Evil Bastard, sans appendix