I wish I could say that my past weekend involved scantily clad ME next to a pool with an umbrella in my drink or 18 holes in a sunny resort. That would be just too easy. No. My weekend started with Mr Chick coming home from work and doing his very normal and usual routine….eating dinner out of the fridge.
Let me start by saying that when we both work, the last thing I want do to is cook so I grab something quick from the fridge and so does he. I had arrived home before he and I had snacked on something. He grabbed some leftovers and chowed it down and sat on the couch to watch some TV. About an hour later his face was all screwed up and he was complaining about having a stomach ache.
“Surely it wasn’t your dinner…it was fresh leftovers”. “no, I think I ate something NOT so fresh at lunch” When asked WHAT it was, he said he had used a pretty old packet of ranch dressing from his work fridge. When asked HOW old, he said…”I dunno, 8 months?”.Oh Gawd… So true to form about 2 hours later he barfed up everything…and then some. Food poisoning. Nice. But instead of feeling better after barfing up all the offending food, he continued to puke all night long and into the next am. Nobody got any sleep..I mean who sleeps when your spouse is dry heaving every 15 min? He emerged the next morning looking worse for wear ( we both did frankly) and he parked his butt on the couch and watched football, eating nothing but 2 crackers and some water. He never felt any better so my thoughts moved to NORO virus. He had just had his first colonoscopy so maybe he had been infected with all that pooping the previous couple of days…But it didn’t get better.
He disappeared up stairs for a while and when he didn’t come down I went to check on him and found him in bed curled up in a fetal position. “Ive never been in this much pain” ” Well you did barf hundred times last night, your muscles are fried”. And I went back down stairs. 15 minutes passed and he hobbled half way down the stairs and said ” I think I need to go to the urgent care”. Now Mr chick is known for having the “worst colds” and maybe being a little wimpy in the illness department but at no time in our 30 years of marriage has he announced that he wants to go to the hospital. “I think I may have appendicitis”..” all the pain is right here” as he points to is lower right side…
Well Shit damn hell.
If thats the case, we ARENT going to urgent care. We are going to the Emergency Room. 7 pm.
Going to the ED is a bit of a crap shoot. You can sit there in agony for hours behind every Tom Dick and Harriet or you can be seen right away. I prayed on the way there that we would get the latter not the former. We all have heard stories…and I have written stories about people who use the ED as their primary care. Its a fact people so no nasty comments…There is a difference between Emergency care and Urgent care… Graciously however it was a slow evening, we were taken in and when they saw his agony they put him on a stretcher and wheeled him into a quiet and dark place.
After an IV was put in and some blood was taken the doc came in, did his initial work up, and thought the same thing Mr Chick did ” Sure looks like that, but we need to scan it to be sure”. They did, and it was. They admitted him that evening and Mr Chick sent me home. “there isn’t anything you can do here, go take care of the dogs” OH yea, the dogs! They had been tossed outside before dinner had been fed to them. It was now 9pm. He got a nice dose of Dilaudid and went to sleep.
I started texting people right and left and tried to find someone to work for me, get paperwork going for sick pay, feed the dogs, call Mr Chicks insurance for intake, get gas ( who knew I was on fumes?)AND to complicate things even more, we were going on vacation in a week…would we be able to go?? I mean everything was paid for and technically non refundable…even the golf clubs had already been shipped. So much to think about and deal with. Sleep wasn’t going to happen for me. Where is MY Dilaudid LOL.
Im not sure what time I eventually got to sleep but with the texts coming in from everywhere and the fact my brain was on full alert Im sure it was deep into the night. But at 6 am the alarm went off and got ready, fed the dogs and went back to the hospital. Surgery was scheduled and Mr Chick looked only slightly better than death warmed over but fully set on hydromorphone. As our friends rallied around me ( “its an appendix..not a cancer diagnosis” I said..but they wouldn’t be stopped..” you aren’t going to be alone”) They prepped and wheeled him away. I am blessed with pretty awesome friends.
We played word games on our computer and I dashed into work to check on things–” Good god woman, what are you doing here, we are fine, get back to the hospital”. … and pretty soon, my little restaurant buzzer that they gave me went off ( pretty cool technology) and he was done and in to recovery. He tends to wake up pretty slowly so an hour and a half went by before the buzzer went off a second time telling me he was going back to his room.
By the time we got there he was awake and the first thing he said was ” Wow, I feel so much better, I have no pain at all”
Well I guess that was a sign of a successful surgery. Believe it or not, we were in the car going home by 7 pm that night. We could have stayed an extra night but that was just more money and Mr Chick was in a happy place with that appendix in the trash somewhere..
24 hours from ER to Home. He’s resting comfortably ( a cliche for sure) and life is getting back to normal, and we are going on vacation saturday morning!