Adventures in February (or) How I Spent My Super Bowl

Well, it sure has been an exciting past two weeks, if you can call it that. Two weeks ago I was just fine, happy even. I was getting ready to sit down and watch the Super Bowl and things were pretty great. Fast forward to the end of the first quarter of the game and I was in a lot of pain. Out of nowhere the lower right side of my belly hurt. At first I thought it was just GI pain (I thought I had to go to the bathroom). So I had someone save my seat and went to the bathroom. Nothing, just more pain. So I tried to watch the game for a bit longer, but once again had to get up and leave. By the third time I had left and come back, I decided to just go up to my room and watch the game there. I barely made it. I took the elevator to the 5^th floor, but couldn’t even stand up straight, much less walk normally. The pain was excruciating and getting worse by the minute. I turned on the television in my common room (my roommates were still in Mexico for intersession) and planned to lie on the couch. I soon realized, however, that I couldn’t even lie down. Stretching out straight put me in even more pain. I left the TV on and went to my bedroom, lying on my bed in the fetal position. This whole time I had been rubbing my belly, still thinking that this was some sort of easily resolved problem. At this point I thought I was badly constipated, but I had never felt pain like this in my life. Finally I accepted that something more serious was probably happening and called my mother. Half-joking I said, “I just hope it’s not my appendix, but I can’t remember which side it’s on.” So, my mother googled “appendicitis” and the symptoms she read to me were nearly word for word what I had been describing to her. Everything down to thinking that “If I could just go to the bathroom, I think it would help.” I hung up with her and went to Tripp’s room. I knocked on his door in tears and, when he answered, asked if he could “zip me” to UHS (he has a zipcar). None of the nearby cars were available though, so he started frantically looking for the on-call tutor phone number. He couldn’t find it, so I (fairly) calmly went back to my room (hunched over like an old lady) and found the number. I called the tutor and was informed that they are no longer around to drive students anywhere in their own cars (wtf?!) so she called for Harvard University Police Department to come get me. They were a pain about it because they just wanted me to wait for a shuttle, but it was finally explained to them that I couldn’t walk from the shuttle stop to UHS. At that point I went to get Frances who went to the hospital with me (the tutor stayed in case there were any other emergencies in the house). And so began my adventure.

Upon getting in the back of the police car, I managed to joke to Frances that “getting in the back of a police car crying probably isn’t good for my reputation,” but as we made the trip to UHS, I found myself completely unable to joke about anything. The ride was excruciating. Every bump felt like someone was trying to kill me. When I got to UHS, they basically just looked at me and were able to understand my level of pain. I was so happy that someone finally understood how much pain I was in. While I understand that Frances had no way of knowing how painful it was, it was frustrating that she didn’t get it. At UHS it’s nearly impossible to get “good” pain killers, but they almost immediately put me on morphine. Frances was shocked that they would do that, but then again she had no idea how much pain I was in. They then transferred me to Mt. Auburn hospital in the back of an ambulance (which I was highly resistant to). I had hoped I could avoid the ambulance situation altogether (I think I have a fear of dying en route to a hospital), and this ride was excruciating as well. I was strapped to the stretcher and every bump shook my whole body. On the positive side, the driver was super hot. Too bad I was incapacitated by pain and couldn’t pursue that one.

The EMT who rode in the back of the ambulance with me took care of the paperwork for my admittance to the ER at Mt. Auburn, so I was taken immediately to a little room. I was upset at the lack of a television (this was the first time I was missing the Super Bowl in six years!!!), but it wasn’t a real room, so understandable. The first thing they did, of course, was have me change into a hospital gown. The nurse on duty told me that I could leave my tank top and underwear on for the time-being, so I did. The second thing they did was give me a LOT more morphine. I was still feeling the pain through the morphine and can’t imagine how badly I would have been hurting if I wasn’t on any medication. Before they could do much of anything, they ran blood tests and a urine screen. The morphine was starting to help, and I was actually afraid that it meant I wasn’t in pain and that I had wasted an ambulance trip and admittance into the ER for nothing. I was afraid I would suddenly have a bowel movement, the pain would be gone, and the hospital staff would be pissed. That didn’t happen. The pain persisted and I could do nothing but lie there. All the while Frances was sitting in the room with me. Frances called my mother to tell her what was going on and then I had to call the tutor on call to get my insurance information. When I went to UHS, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be transported to another hospital, so I hadn’t thought to bring my wallet or anything.

Finally, a doctor came to see me and told me that there were two possibilities by the way I was describing the pain: I had either appendicitis or a torted ovary. I soon learned, however, that a torted ovary can be more life threatening than appendicitis (even though it too can be life threatening if the appendix bursts). The doctor was especially concerned about a torted ovary because most people presenting with appendicitis have felt bad for a few days before the pain started. Most people actually think they’re developing the flu. Not me, I had been just fine and dandy before the pain started. The doctor said that although I hadn’t felt bad, my bloodwork showed an increased white blood count, which indicated an infection, but that they were more concerned about the ovary. So the doctor said to me, “Your appendix can wait, your ovary can’t.” Oh god. So they scheduled me for an ultrasound. Frances, meanwhile, had to be on a radio show about boxing, so while I went for my ultrasound, she did her piece on the week before’s fight. Before the ultrasound they gave me more morphine, so I didn’t feel a whole lot, though I’ll admit it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Afterward, we had to wait for the results. The ultrasound was free and clear.

They wheeled me back to my room on the stretcher (sitting up in a wheelchair was too painful). Frances came back in a few minutes and they told her that she should probably just go home because we wouldn’t know for HOURS whether or not it was my appendix. Great. So Frances went home with my blessing and I continued to lie there, getting more morphine every couple of hours. They needed to run a CT scan, but first I had to drink contrast so that all of my organs would show up correctly on the scan. It was the most horrible tasting thing I’ve ever consumed. I LOVE bitter beer, but this stuff was bitter in a very bad way. Generally speaking the contrast takes 2 hours to activate, but after two hours I hadn’t started experiencing any of the normal side effects of the contrast (except nausea, but they had given me an injection for that previously), so they were afraid the contrast hadn’t made its way completely through my organs and they waited an extra hour. So, after what had become three hours later, they took me in for the CT scan. In addition to the contrast I had drank, they gave me an injection through my IV of another contrast. It was my first CT scan, so it was a little weird, but around 30 minutes later it was finished.

They sent me back to my room, again on the stretcher/hospital bed, and gave me more morphine for the pain. It was as bad as ever. About an hour later, around 4:45 a.m., the doctor came in to give me my results. Appendicitis, and the only option (obviously) was surgery. I was relieved to know it was appendicitis and was strangely not nervous at all about the surgery. I just wanted to let my mother know. First, I called the on-call tutor because I had planned on waiting to tell my mother when she woke up. But at around 5:20 I called and told her. She didn’t seem too worried, but I’m sure she was just trying to make sure I didn’t get nervous.

The anesthesiologist was the next person to come see me, aside from my regular nurses. He came in to have me sign the consent for anesthesia and said, “So they’re taking your gallbladder out this morning?” He wasn’t joking. I handled it pretty calmly, but sternly said, “My appendix,” to which the nurse reassured me, “Don’t worry, he’s just the anesthesiologist and won’t be cutting you open.” The anesthesiologist immediately started apologizing profusely, clearly mortified. I signed the consent form and the anesthesiologist left. Not long after that, two of the surgical nurses came in to talk to me. They had me sign more forms and take of all my jewelry. One of the nurses put my jewelry inside a rubber glove, tied it up, and put it in the bag with my clothes from the night before. I thought that was pretty inventive, though I’m sure they’ve done it many times before. They called the morning surgical team in early to take care of my surgery as soon as possible. I was told they were giving the doctors and nurses an hour to wake up, get ready and come in, so I had a while to wait. By the time all of the forms were taken care of, it was nearly time, so they wrapped me in a few blankets and rolled me to the OR. I made sure to tell the nurse to call my mother when the surgery was over, and she wrote it down. The very last thing I did before they took me to the OR was to sign the very last consent form. On the form it gave the name of the procedure which was listed as “Laparoscopic Appendectomy (with Open Appendectomy if Laparoscopic fails)”. Call me crazy, but as soon as I read it, I had a feeling the laparoscopic was going to fail. After I signed the form, they took me into the OR and started the anesthesia. The last thing I heard before passing out on the table was, “She has a shirt on!” I realized that I still had my tank top on from the night before. No one had bothered to make sure I only had my gown on. At that point though, I couldn’t even say anything in response. I passed out. It was around 6:30 a.m.

I woke up a little after 10 a.m. and the first thing the nurse said to me was, “I don’t know how you managed it, but you ended up in the OR with a shirt on”. It was reassuring to hear because I was beginning to think I had imagined hearing it in the OR. The next thing the nurse told me was that the laparoscopic procedure failed and they had to make a full incision, meaning they had to cut through my abdominal muscles and everything. Despite being a bit disappointed, I wasn’t surprised. I asked the nurse if the doctor had called my mother and she responded that it was in the doctor’s notes and he was usually good about it, so she was sure he had.

I was then transferred to a room to begin my recovery. For the next two hours I just laid around lethargically and then decided to call my mother. When I did, she was pretty frantic. Apparently, the doctor had neglected to call her and she couldn’t figure out why the surgery was taking 6 hours. Fail. She was incredibly happy to hear from me, clearly.

There isn’t a whole lot to say about the next 24 hours or so. My friend Julia came to visit and brought me magazines to read, which was really sweet. She said it wasn’t really a hospital stay without trashy magazines. At this point my cell phone was completely dead, so I paid the $15 to get phone access in my room. I was therefore able to call my parents, my brother, and anyone else who had expressed concern about me. I ended up needing a catheter by that night (which was terrible), but by the next day they were able to remove it. When I tried calling my mother the next day (Tuesday) the call wouldn’t go through. I talked to the lady at the front desk (they had me up and walking around the day of the surgery, so it wasn’t much of a problem to be walking around at this point) and she said that despite paying the $15, I never had access to long distance calls. She basically tried to tell me that the phone was incapable of dialing out and that there was no way I had been making calls. Considering I had been talking to my mother and various other people outside of the Boston area, I knew this was wrong. Either way, she gave me the number for the front desk and my mother was able to call that if she needed to speak with me.

I found out right after that, though, that they were planning on discharging me. Not to my dorm room, but to UHS inpatient care. At this point I was still on a LOT of pain medication and the doctors said that the anesthesia was still keeping my insides “asleep”, which is why I had been having problems going to the bathroom. It was wearing off though, so they saw fit to send me to UHS, but they kept me on the pain meds. So they called for an ambulance and shipped me back to Harvard. When I got there, the on-call tutor agreed to get my phone charger from my dorm room and bring it to UHS. I was so grateful to get back to my email and text messages. That evening Frances, Ashley, and Leo all came to visit me. Over the course of the next few days, I had more visitors as well, including Zac, Rosalia and Liz, my Resident Dean, and a girl I barely know, Paula. It was super sweet that she came to visit, especially, because she was concerned about me despite not knowing me very well and she brought me food! The TV at UHS was better than at Mt. Auburn because there is cable at UHS and only local stations at Mt. Auburn, but I quickly learned that daytime TV isn’t worth watching, only primetime. I spent my days largely chatting online (after Rosalia brought me my laptop) and playing Brick Breaker on my BlackBerry. Mostly though, I just slept thanks to the pain killers and stuff they were giving me. I did, however, realize that walking was not as easy as I had originally thought. It was mostly just that the anesthesia kept it from hurting. Once I got to UHS and had only the Vicodin to go on, the pain was much worse. It got better over the course of a few days, but it was not nearly as easy as I had hoped.

On Wednesday night the nurse took the dressing off of my incision and everyone was surprised to see that I didn’t have staples. Generally with an emergency appendectomy that turns into an open appendectomy, the doctor doesn’t take the time to suture the wound (as it takes a long time), but in my case, he had. My PCP at UHS was particularly pleased that he had taken the time to suture it and told me that it meant a better aesthetic result in the long run. Yay! J Taking the dressing off of the incision also meant I was able to take my first shower since the surgery. Double yay! Here is a picture of the incision that I took with my BlackBerry as soon as the dressing was removed.

The next few days were basically just rinse and repeat. Nothing too exciting happened (except for me breaking my Brick Breaker record). On Friday night I was informed that I would be being discharged on Saturday, provided that the doctor on call Saturday agreed after seeing me. She had a conference to attend Saturday morning, so she made her rounds earlier than most doctors do on a Saturday. This meant that I was ready to leave by 9 a.m. (showered, dressed, and ready to go). The shuttle didn’t actually pick me up until closer to 10 a.m., but I came home and took a nap. I had planned to catch up on some work and such, but walking just from the front door of my dorm up to my actual room (I obviously took the elevator) was nearly too much for me. I was incredibly fatigued. That night I took another picture of the incision just to show how much it had healed in the previous few days.

I was scheduled to see the surgeon on Wednesday, so I took another picture on Tuesday night (February 10). At this point the steristrips were still covering the incision (note that these are different from a dressing and were not removed to shower or anything).

As soon as I went in to see the surgeon on Wednesday morning, he took the steristrips off (I had been instructed to not pull on them and let them come off on their own, so I really wished I had just pulled them off after I realized it would have been okay). He told me that I was healing well, but that I would have to continue to take it easy for another week or so. During this time I had been taking the disabilities van to class and rehearsal (for Vagina Monologues), so I hadn’t been doing much walking anyway. He sent me on my way with instructions to not do any vigorous activity.

Luckily for me, The Vagina Monologues was performed without much movement and I was able to pull off being in the show. I was in quite a bit of pain throughout some of rehearsal, but opening night was actually the day after I saw the surgeon, so I didn’t have much to go at that point. I made it through the weekend without incident (even went to the movies to see Friday the 13^th on Valentine’s Day, which was my first day really “out of the house” since the surgery, aside from class) and stopped using the disabilities van service as of Monday even though I technically have it until this Friday (the 20^th).

Yesterday was the first day I was able to wear jeans since the surgery. I had been wearing stretchy pants and skirts, which kind of sucked considering it is cold and I hate wearing tights or stockings. It was so nice to wear jeans yesterday and I wasn’t in too much discomfort. Today, however, was a bit more uncomfortable, but I think that has a lot to do with the amount of walking I have been doing. Today, however, marks a week since I have seen the surgeon, so I’m pretty confident that the amount of walking I’ve been doing is okay. As a matter of fact, I’m super excited to get back to the gym and back to walking to class instead of taking the shuttle (which is different from the van services and all students can take it). For good measure, I’m including yet another picture of the incision. This will show how much it has healed in the last week. At this point it’s mostly just a scar, but I’ve been applying Mederma, so hopefully it will start to fade over time (I’ll add another pic once that starts visibly occurring).

So while my adventure may not be totally over, it most likely is. If anything were to happen at this point, it would probably signify that something was wrong. So now I just have to keep trucking along trying to catch up on school work. In the end it will all work out, I’m sure, but for now it’s a little hectic.