Appendix-less

So here's the silly story of why I've missed yet another month of work, am hanging around in pyjamas and can't stay awake for more than 4 hours or walk for more than 15 minutes.

My hand, still sore and swollen from the IV, isn't as red and I can type two-handed easier.

I woke up from surgery and was in this wood-panelled, halogen lit recovery room. It's the funkiest room in the Richmond General Hospital I assume.

The first thing I said was "You fixed my back." It rather surprised the nurses who were under the impression my appendix had been taken out. Even in my sleepy, drugged up state I wiggled under the blankets and my back felt better than it had in years. Yes, the stabbing horrid pain in my stomach was gone, but that had only happened for a day. It was the back that amazed me.

They asked if I remembered the surgery (NO, thank god). Chris met me as I came out of the room and told me that my appendix wasn't inflamed or ruptured, it was just dead. Dead. Not really a common thing to happen, usually they get inflamed and swollen before they get taken out. He said I was lucky they took it out that day or the outcome would be totally different.

I don't remember Thursday much. Everything hurt, particularly the front of my shoulder and my belly button. The incisions really look like paper cuts in my stomach. It hurt to get up, I couldn't roll over. The nurses were great and every hour came to check my temperature, blood pressure, oxygen levels. I was on clear liquids all day. Clear liquids means soup and green jello.

When they let me go on Friday I started to cry, "I don't feel better." They checked everything and said I'd be fine. My doctor came and said it should take about two weeks to recover and get back to work.

My instructions were to return if I had a lot of pain or if my temperature was above 38.5 for four hours or more. And with that Chris took me home.