I've had an interesting week. Last Monday at around midnight I began to feel intense pain in my stomach. It kept me
up all night, and by the next afternoon I was pretty sure that it wasn't the flu or food poisoning (the pain never went away when I threw up) and I was pretty worried. After consulting with my mom, who I turn to in any crisis medical or otherwise, I called a cab and went to the urgent care center at San Francisco General. I was reluctant to go to the hospital since I am uninsured, but all of my symptoms suggested appendicitis. My cab driver sympathized with my situation, and remarked that this country is "really bad if you don't have insurance." In the urgent care center I took a number and waited. I was in too much pain even to watch Tyra, which was on in the waiting room. After about an hour I saw a triage nurse, gave a urine sample, then sat in the waiting room some more. At least at that point I must have been bumped to the top of the list, because it wasn't long before I was in a room by myself in nothing but a hospital gown, soaking up a shot of morphine and waiting for kidney tests to come back from the lab. An hour or so later I was sent to the radiology center for a CT scan, which confirmed acute appendicitis (after an hour and a half of sitting in the radiology waiting room, of course. At least American Idol was on). Urgent care was closing, so I was sent to the ER to wait for the surgeons who would look at my CT scan and determine if I needed an appendectomy that night or if it could wait until the next day. Everything in the ER was chaos, and the nurses there were all set to send me to radiology for at CT scan until I convinced them that I had
just had one. I ended up having the operation around 11:30 Tuesday night, the final comic delay being that the hospital needed confirmation that I wasn't pregnant, and although I had already given urine and blood, the urine had been tossed out and the blood was missing. I didn't mind giving more urine, since I had drunk so much barium in preparation for my CT scan, but it seemed there wasn't a pregnancy test to be found anywhere. The surgeons, anesthesiologists, and nurses were even discussing the possibility of running to Walgreens to buy one at one point. They managed to dig one up eventually, and then they finally put me under. I know I was given an anesthetic through my IV, but I think they gave me the gas, too. Anyway, the operation was done laparoscopically, so I don't have a cool Madeline scar, but rather three tiny scars arranged in a triangle. One of them is in my belly button. It's pretty ugly, actually. I don't mind the other two, but I hope that one goes away. My main complaint afterward was the cough I developed from being intubated, because every time I coughed I felt like I was going to bust a seam. I was released from the hospital
Wednesday afternoon, and good thing because I couldn't have lived on the hospital food. I mean, I know it's been said before, but it was just awful. Honestly, though, I didn't really mind being fussed over. I stayed at my dad's house for a few days, but now I'm home. Life goes on.
