The week, that wasn’t

This past week has been hell.

Last Saturday I started having severe pains in my stomach. Something akin to a ball of razors. For over an hour I writhed in excruciating pain in a fevered state. As I passed out due to exhaustion I worried if my appendix had burst.

The remainder of Saturday was a blur. Pain, fever, trips to the bathroom, endless sleep. I uttered a promise to my beloved bride that if I did not feel better on Sunday that I would go to the doctor. To be fair, this ploy usually works. All is better by the next day, or I am able to manage it better, and I avoid a trip to the doctor.

This was not the case this time.

Though my fever had broken during the night, the pain and ‘other’ issues were still there. So my wife loaded up the kids and dropped me off at patient first, agreeing to take the kids to the park and wait. It went surprisingly fast. Checked in, taken to a room, blood drawn, urine taken, doctors visit. Result, based on what I was saying, the elevated white blood cell counts, the blood in my urine, I needed to go to the ER for a CT scan. Oh joy!

Careful reader, please note, the only reason I go to the ER is to have something closed that I cannot close, reattached that has been lobbed off, or if there is a likelihood of my demise. All other reasons, see a doctor, or take care of it.

So, I called my wife, and off we went to the ER with the knowledge that there IS something wrong. I could tell by the look on the kids faces, they were scared, so was I. Patient First had called ahead, sending the test results and the doctors notes, to the ER. This helped! Again, checked in, taken back, given a room.

More tests, more tests, and more tests.

The nurse that I had was phenomenal. He was calm, tentative, reassuring, and wise. When it came time to give me an iv, he suggested that the kids be taken away for a bit. It was painful to watch the kids go, but was the right call.

More blood taken, another urine test, then more things. Fecal test, fun, and morphine. Having never had morphine, and also speaking to the amazing skill of the nurse, he stayed with me and talked me through the pain that I felt (and still feel a little) as my dose was given. Again, reassuring, calm, and tentative. Finally, some relief from the pain.

But no rest. Drinking contrast, more tests, more blood, reading results, whisked to the CT, and finally we had some answers.

Answers to everything, but what I was going through.

The CT scan showed A LOT of things, none of which were related to what I was feeling. Things that will require me to follow up with my PCP (need to have one first… that is being worked on). But it ruled out stones, blockage, ruptures, and informed us that my appendix was indeed just fine. But all of the blood work shows that there is something wrong. My body is dealing with something, it is fighting, hard.

For the rest of the week, I slept. I pushed my self and exhausted myself in doing things like riding in the van. Seriously. I have been dealing with an acute weakness, like struggling to lift my children. Total lack of appetite, but forcing myself to eat because I know better, and then dealing with the… *ahem* repercussions of any and all food entering my body. Feeling pain, taking the pain killers, then sleeping for hours. Super. Fun. Times.

Here I am, today, for now.

Today, because I needed to, I have forced myself to go to work. I am in my office, and it is brutal. I cannot take the pain killers, because I would not be able to drive or I would fall asleep, so there is pain. But I will make it work. I have to.

I am not sure how long it will be this way. If looking at percent’s, I am hovering around 40%. One way it was put to me recently is that if the human body is a V8, I am running on two MAYBE three cylinders. I have appointments, they may be awhile from now, but they exist. All I can do is to keep going, rest when I can, and pull through… right?

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