appendectomy. oh my!

While you found me last grousing about my troubles in the career oriented world I was actually in physical pain. I had stomach bacteria in my stomach this summer that I thought I had taken care of and it seemed it had made an untimely return. I stayed away from the stress-filled world of public school on Thursday and around noon was coerced in to appointing with a doctor by a lovely young lady who loves me. I didn't get to see my doctor but was introduced to a nurse practitioner that at once saved my life and almost killed me in a matter of 18 hours.

She thought it may be my appendix but must not have thought to seriously about this as she scheduled my ct scan for the following morning as opposed to right away. Over night I could have up and died (appendix bursting and leaking toxins into my lower bowels and slowly poisoning me). I show up early as they tell me to get there no later than 15 minutes early. I ended up waiting an additional half an hour just to be told I needed to be drinking a strange mixture of lemonade and iodine which we will call lemomidone. After drinking the first cup I was instructed to wait another 20 minutes and drink another and also to let that one find its way to my intestines before I could head back. Finally, I'm in the ct scan room and am injected with a "contrast" which makes me feel like I wet myself and turned my heart into a space heater. I ask if anyone has ever wet themselves after being injected with this and she says it just feels that way but only females ever express this feeling.

Sitting in another waiting room I answer the phone. The nurse practitioner from the day prior, "GUESS WHAT! YOU HAVE APPENDICITIS!" I let her know she probably shouldn't tell people this sort of thing in such a told you so way and she says that I am a little high strung for a boy my age. I get it! I'm a high strung, feminine, appendicitis patient. She gives me horrible directions to St. Joseph Hospital and I end up walking into the St. Elsewhere hospital asking for directions again. I end up in the ER at St. Joe's and they have no idea what I'm talking about. "You were supposed to be expecting me?" Nope. Okay, well then, my appendix could be exploding at any moment or it might have already exploded...get me to surgery, damn it! "We are going to have to give you a ct scan." Are you people stupid or am I going to die? or both? After meeting all of my nurses and doctors in the ER, they have cleared up the misunderstanding and I am rushed to Pre-Op. Not so much rushed but I do end up there eventually. "I'm not going to get charged for the whole ER thing, right? I mean it was your guys fault." "Oh, you shouldn't." But if you do all you have to do is get a waiver signed by the lady at the front desk and have her get it notarized by her aunt's hairdresser after he gets out of the bathroom...or you could just pay it. It's not like you have insurance with us or anything like that.

Pre-Op: paperwork. you can't make long distance phone calls and your cell phone doesn't get service. the only people who you want at the hospital have Colorado Springs' area codes. we're supposed to talk to you about living wills...but we won't actually...we'll just tell you we have to tell you this. can you take your underwear off? we have to shave you? wait, that wasn't a question.

Monet! Someone I love! Get me out of this bureaucratic wasteland of a hospital before they bill me for crying on the sheets.

Anesthesia: we make bad jokes that are supposed to make you feel comfortable and we don't really tell you what's going to happen.................convulsions, I am f-ing cold!!! I can't breathe. Who the hell are you? Recovery Room?: a nurse from Chicago who doesn't really like Denver because she is single and 40 and doesn't really like me because I yell at her for not letting me se my girlfriend or mom, who have both been waiting for three hours because this hospital doesn't have enough rooms for the amount of people that are ill. Why do these people get to talk to people they know and you keep leaving me to join the conversation. I am pumped full of morphine and whatever gas they used to knock me out and I am going to cry and curse because my blood pressure is 190 over 100...what the hell?

They didn't ask if I even wanted to keep my appendix. I didn't but I could have given it as a gift (ex-girlfreind or first-born, either/or).

Seeing my loved ones after this long has made me realize that I'm glad I lived through all of this and won't mind halving my savings account the following week, or whenever I get the bill. Seeing Monet makes me want to elope. Seeing my mom makes me want to cry again. I am a bad patient... I cry and curse a lot.