Nothing like I planned. We were going to get a few things done around the house and spend Sunday morning at the farmer's market as usual, maybe grocery shop and do some cooking. Instead, I was in the hospital getting my appendix out.
I woke at 2:30am on Saturday to feed Avery and I had a bit of a stomach ache, but that seemed about right since I had eaten an entire bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs on Friday. But by the time I finished feeding the baby, I was feeling worse. So I went to the bathroom.
Then I went to the bathroom again.
Then I threw up four times.
I knew something was wrong when puking didn't relieve the pain. And by 6am, I couldn't sit, stand, lay, curl up into a ball, nothing. No matter what I tried, death was clearly imminent. So my parents came to watch the little lady and Mark took me to the hospital. They took me right away because I looked THAT BAD, and shot me up with the good stuff so I could at least answer questions and ya know, stay conscious during the tests to see what was wrong.
I knew what it was without all the tests though. The time had finally come. I've been dreading having to have my appendix out since I was eleven and my friend at the time had hers out. Ever since then, anytime I had even the slightest twinge on my right side I thought THIS IS IT! And this time it was.
I'd never had surgery before, and the thought of it horrifies me. Not the surgery itself, because you're knocked out, but the recovery. How much pain will there be? Will I get blood clots that travel to my lungs and kill me? Will I be horribly scarred for life?
So two days post-surgery I'm way more weirded out than I was that day. I think I'm supposed to be changing my band-aids, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm not ready to see stitches. And I'm annoyed because I was just feeling back to normal after giving birth.
When will the day come that I don't have to plan ahead to go to the bathroom because it takes me five whole minutes to get out of bed?