How My Weekend Went*

On Saturday I woke up at 4:45am with an excruciating pain on my right side. At first I thought it would pass (like a brief, random stomach pain), and so I took some Motrin and tried going to the bathroom. Two hours and many attempts to go to the bathroom later, I was still in pain, and it felt like it was spreading.

My first thought (and dreaded fear) was that it was appendicitis. I looked it up on the internet--I can never remember what side the appendix is on--and my fear intensified as I read each symptom. I kept thinking of that episode of Sister, Sister where Tia and Tamera both wake up in the middle of the night with intense pains and thus are carted off to the hospital, where they both have their appendixes removed and fight the temptation to look up their birth parents.

I finally went down to wake Emma up at 6:30, when I was convinced I was going to die if I didn't get looked at. I had to knock twice before she came to the door, bleary-eyed and clearly not completely awake.

"Can you take me the E.R.?" I asked. Pippin, Emma's cat, slipped past her feet and ran into the nearby bathroom. He jumped up on the seat and started drinking out of the toilet. "I have a huge pain in my side and I don't know if it's appendicitis and I'd rather go in and find out for sure rather than wait and possibly have it get worse."

"Where is the pain?" Emma asked as she rubbed her eyes, her brow furrowed.

I told her that it had started somewhere in the back right, and had moved around the side of my torso and was making its way down. "I'm so sorry to wake you, but I am really worried, and in pain, and I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but..."

Emma didn't say anything, and I started to worry that she was going to say no. I stood there for a few minutes, unsure what to say, and then ran back upstairs. I pulled on some semblance of clothes, grabbed my purse and all necessary accoutrements and tried going to the bathroom once more to no avail. When I came out, Emma was waiting in the threshold dividing the kitchen and the dining room, her purse over her shoulder and still bleary-eyed.

"I'll be in the waiting room," Emma told me once we had arrived at the hospital and I was giving them my information. I told the man behind the desk about my situation, and he gave me an armband and directed me to talk to a nurse in a room just off the main entryway.

Finally, I ended up in an examination room. They took the samples they needed for tests. The woman who took a blood sample was really nice. She had beautiful dark hair that had been braided and curled, and she asked me about my New Moon shirt. We talked briefly about the Twilight movies, and I told her that the shirt was my pajama top and that I was deathly afraid of needles and that I was sorry if I reacted immaturely. Another nurse hooked me up to an IV, informing me that the medicine might make me a little nauseous and drowsy, and to be aware. The doctor came in to talk with me; she said my symptoms fit that of a kidney stone. I had a CAT scan, and was brought back to the examination room.

As I waited, I sang "Teenage Dream" under my breath to distract myself from the needle that was in my arm and the strange feeling in response to the medicine.

The doctor came in about ten minutes later to let me know that the tests had confirmed that I had a kidney stone. Needless to say, I was relieved. As long as it wasn't appendicitis I was happy. She gave me a prescription, and I was released shortly after 8:45.

Emma had fallen asleep in a little ball--she's a hobbit--on two waiting room chairs that she had pushed together. I poked her to wake her up and we left to pick up my meds on the way home. I called my parents as I was waiting for the prescription to be filled to let them know what happened. I started the conversation with "Don't freak out, but I was in the E.R."--which will always cause some sort of freak-out, regardless of the reason for which you were in the E.R.

I can't swallow pills. It's a psychological thing and I know it's immature, but I can't help it; if I know the pill is in my mouth I can't force myself to swallow it for fear that I am going to choke. The pills I was told to take could be crushed and put into food. I bought a pill-crusher and it has been a bit of a hassle to crush them up and take them with applesauce, but at least I'm taking them. As of today, I have been able to successfully swallow the pill in two pieces. Crushing it to a powder makes it taste awful; the least amount of powder left over, the more the applesauce remains tasting like applesauce.

I spent the majority of Saturday sleeping. I threw up twice, as it's imperative to take the pills with food, which didn't register then in my medicated mind. I ate soup and crackers on Sunday, hoping that I wouldn't throw up again.

Since Sunday, I've been feeling progressively more like my normal self. Today has been the best, I think; I haven't felt dizzy and though I'm still tired, I feel much better. I passed the kidney stone on Sunday, and have been working through the rest of my medication. I was behind on homework from not being able to do any on Saturday, and stayed up late on Sunday night to try to catch up.

Monday was probably the worst day post-stone. I was tired from the limited amount of sleep the night before, and with the combined side-effect of fatigue from the medication and two work shifts, I felt miserable. I sent a text to my sister.

Me: My meds make me drowsy...
Heidi: That sucks. Is it for your kidney stone? Also can I name your kidney stone?
Me: HAHAHAHAHA Yes. And yes, you may.
Heidi (later): Your kidney stone should be named Iago. Either that or it should be named Bartholomue (sp?)
Me: I like Bartholemew. (sp?)
Heidi: Hee hee. Bartholomew(sp?) it is. :)

This conversation sent me into a fit of giggles for the rest of the day. It isn't the first time we've named our ailments, and I don't think it'll be the last. Oh the cleverness of us.

*I'm sorry if it's borderline TMI; I tried to keep the details as limited as possible.