Buh-Bye, Appendix Schmappendix.

Well, the Peace Corps really changes you, that’s for sure. Whenever I do leave the Philippines, I’ll be leaving with one less organ, thanks to the appendicitis that hit me last Tuesday. Yes, I was sleeping soundly when all of a sudden I was awoken by what I thought was a dire need to hit the bathroom and subtly let my stomach explode. Well, that route was tried and it was a failed attempt. I returned to my room, noticing that it was only 2 AM and decided that despite stomach pains, I was going to get some shut-eye. After a few hours of restful sleep, I lay in bed continuously re-setting my alarm clock, deciding I didn’t want to get up until the stomach cramps subsided. I mean, they had to go away sometime, didn’t they? I nicely texted into work saying that I was going to take the morning off, hopefully arriving in the afternoon after I felt better.

My fever started a little while after waking up, then rose, and then steadied at 100.4F for the rest of the morning. Well, by 12:30 or so, I decided to text our Peace Corps doctor to see what they thought of the situation. I am normally the type to just wait things out, and I didn’t want to act too hastily. Well, by the time I heard back, my cramps were probably a 9 on a 10-point pain scale and I could barely stand or walk for more than a second or two. At this point, it was decided that I should get to the hospital in order to rule some things out. I was really still thinking that maybe it’s a bad parasite or amoeba that attacked my system. Appendicitis was in the back of my mind, but just as a worst-fear sort of thing.

I jumped in a taxi with my Mama to go to the hospital, and within five minutes of arriving, my doctor said, “Well, I think it’s appendicitis. We may have to go in tonight.” Worst fear, confirmed. They quickly got me to the emergency room and hooked up to an IV. We headed for an ultrasound and they ran other tests. Within a couple of hours, an appendectomy was scheduled with the surgeon and I was headed toward the operating room. During the half-hour leading up to being wheeled away, I was frantically trying to get a hold of my parents in the States, as I figured they should probably know that their daughter is going under the knife. It’s not the knife so much that makes me nervous about coming out alive, but the anesthesia. As luck would have it, both of my parents were out on their early morning walks, so I left messages. Luckily, my dad called back before being wheeled off, but still hadn’t heard from my mom. I put Angela in charge of (wo)manning my phone and slowly got wheeled to the OR. This part of the journey was slightly unpleasant, as I’m pretty sure there was a flat tire on the gurney. Ah well, builds character.

By the time it was all over, I felt on top of the world. I was in the recovery room for a couple more hours and then wheeled to my hospital room at about 1 AM. I talked to my mom on the phone that night at about 2 AM and then stayed up the rest of the night watching all the glorious shows on cable (meaning I flipped through 60 channels over and over, not finding anything really that great to watch). My hospital stay lasted for four days, and man, by the time I walked out of there, I really wanted to take that cute gown with me! At this point, I’m all better with just a little bit of soreness left. No worries.

In math terms:
LynnNow = (LynnBefore – Appendix) + TinyScars