Tuesday, June 23, 2009
1 a.m.: We go to sleep after watching some retarded Saturday Night Live reruns.
2 a.m.: Hubs wakes me because he's shivering violently and has uncomfortable pressure in his abdomen. His temperature is slightly elevated.
2:15 a.m.: Arrive at emergency room.
3:15 a.m.: Finally get seen by nurse.
3:30-6 a.m.: IV, dilaudid, CT scan, x rays, enormous awful hospital gown, waiting.
7 a.m: It's probably appendicitis, which probably means surgery.
8:30 a.m.: Confirmation of appendicitis from condescending asshole emergency room doctor.
8:30 a.m. - noon: Hubs' dad arrives, we make a couple phone calls and wait anxiously for surgery.
12:30 p.m.: Hubs is wheeled into surgery. I wave good-bye and have good crying jag in waiting room while Hubs' dad fetches coffee.
1:30 p.m.: Doctor delivers good news of successful surgery.
1:45 p.m.: We see Hubs. He is swearing. There is oily shit in his eyes to keep them moist. He is pissed about this. He is drugged up and his pupils are pinpoints. We are sent away by bitchy nurse.
2 p.m.: My sister and brother in law arrive. I cry some more.
3 p.m.: We see Hubs in room he is sharing with polite gay gentleman waiting for some kind of transplant. He is drugged. He is tired. He wants to sleep. He wants water but is given ice chips. He feels nauseated.
3:30 p.m.: Everyone leaves since Hubs' room is literally two ceiling tiles long and three ceiling tiles wide and he will just be sleeping.
4 p.m.: I run home for a shower and crying jag, shovel some leftover macaroni salad in my mouth, throw some stuff in a backpack and run back to the hospital.
4:45 p.m.: Hubs sleeps. He is told he needs to pee or he'll be given a catheter.
5 - 7 p.m.: Hubs sleeps, pushes morphine button, attempts to pee.
7:30 p.m.: Great success! Pee in a jar.
9 p.m.: Hubs is passed out. Visiting hours ended half an hour ago. I slip out.
9:15: I eat, cry, go to bed.
6 a.m.: Awaken. Shower. Go to hospital.
7:30 a.m.: Hubs is awake and proclaims he barfed on himself at 3 a.m. He is nauseated from the morphine. Nurses take their heads out of their asses and administer anti-nausea meds.
8 - 11:30 a.m.: Sleeping, drinking water, get lectured to by another asshole doctor about high blood pressure, remove morphine drip, start to feel less nauseated, eat delicious low fat hospital lunch.
12:30 p.m. Friend who happens to be a nurse arrives for a visit. We chat. We are waiting to be discharged.
2 p.m.: Friend and I run for coffee.
2:30 p.m.: Nurse is telling Hubs he can leave. With help, he dresses and waits for stupid hospital bureaucratic BS to get worked out.
4 p.m.: We are finally leaving!
4:30 - 10 p.m.: Get on couch, try to stay comfortable and cool, eat half a sandwich, watch "The Bachelorette," (Wes, WTF, you douche) go to bed.
10:30 p.m. - 9 a.m. Tuesday: Awaken every 2 hours due to discomfort mixed with Vicodin.
So that's about it. Our exciting appendectomy story. Hubs is recovering very well from the laparoscopic (sp?) surgery and his three incisions are hurting a little less today.
Even though it was just a simple appendix removal, I wasn't prepared to see my 32-year-old husband go into surgery or come out of it. I've pretty much never been so terrified. I consider hospitals and surgery to be pretty barbaric and, as a rule, I stay away from them as much as possible.