Sickies

We're a whole bunch of sickies around here.

On Wednesday night I was in a TON of pain. We read bedtime stories and I went to go rock on the floor. My legs were shaking out of control - like I was being electrocuted. It wasn't cycle time. I thought maybe it was my stomach. Pepto didn't touch the pain. Maybe an ovarian cyst? Who knows? But I couldn't shake the pain. Feeling slightly foolish - like if they tell me it's just gas pains I'm going to want to die - I decided reluctantly to go to the E.R.

We got Liv out of bed and took her to a friend's house. I got a blessing there from Rob and our friend, Adam. I still wasn't too worried, and I was walking just fine. I felt like a crazy person describing my pain. I couldn't pinpoint the source of the pain, I just knew it was my lower stomach. They thought perhaps I had kidney stones. Maybe I was pregnant (as if). So they ran all kinds of tests on me. Turns out - I had appendicitis. I wasn't crazy.

They took out my appendix at 4 am on Thursday morning. I don't remember knocking out (good thing), I do remember having an asthma attack coming out of the anesthesia (bad thing). It's not a good thing when you can see all of the O.R. staff "working on you," including the anesthesiologist. They were panicked. I couldn't breath. I panicked. They told me it was an anxiety asthma attack. I guess I made it out okay. I blacked out after the asthma attack, then woke to find Rob by my side. I was offended that they thought my anxiety had caused asthma, but it's a medical term, I suppose. My BODY was under anxiety and reacted poorly to the meds. Now that I understand, I'm not as offended. ;)

I spent the day on some serious drugs in a post-op sick ward. It was crazy. I could hear everything - hacking, gagging, chucking. I waited all day to eat real food (I was hungry). Their gluten free food was worse than dog food. They didn't have a phone or a tv for me, so I was really bored. But I had my phone! I made a whole bunch of phone calls I don't remember.
I tried to read, but the words were blurry. What's a girl to do? So I got outta there as soon as possible. I've been healing since. Rob's been taking care of me pretty well. I've tried to vacuum (I suppose that's a no-no) and play the piano (can't read blurry notes). Can't really do either. He has to yell at me. Mom and Laura have been yelling at me to relax from afar. I feel loved. Liv is fascinated with my wounds and happy to have an excuse to buy flowers and a CareBear card.

Then on Sunday night, Olivia started puking and pooping. It was awesome. Rob was unusually cranky when he woke up, so I ended up taking care of the puker. I'm hoping I don't start hurling myself. I might break some stitches. So she's been sucking on copious amounts of Gatorade. I've been hiding from her. Once when she was just about to chuck (as in pinching her cheeks closed), Rob yelled, "get your bowl!" but the bowl was right next to me. Scared that she'd puke on me, I threw the metal bowl at her. She was cool, picked it up and chucked in it. Mother of the year.