Tuesday, September 8, 2009

When Organs Attack!

Tony is sleeping the sleep of the heavily medicated right now. He is a bit lighter than he was yesterday, but I don't recommend his weight-loss plan. You know, that plan where they remove organs.

Tony had been feeling ill for a couple of days, but yesterday he complained to me that he felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He swore it wasn't his appendix (this is where the universe laughed heartily) because the pain wasn't localized to the right lower abdomen. I sent him to bed with some Gatorade and orders to rest and drink. He rested, but he didn't drink. By 6 pm, he was vomiting with force (or with feeeeeling, if you will). By 8 pm, he said it felt like he had been repeatedly kicked in the gut (who was beating him in his sleep? Who?). Charles went down to bed, I called Leland, and we headed to the ER. They put an IV in because he was severely dehydrated, and sent blood off for labs around 10:45 pm. For those keeping track at home, that's my BED TIME. The doctor scared me half to death when he insisted to me that it wasn't appendicitis (cue universe laughing, again) and that I was, instead, facing a rampant, vicious virus that was sure to bring our whole family down, just you wait mere mortal.

By 11 pm, even with some powerful anti-nausea medication in his IV (on top of almost a liter and half of fluid, at this point), Tony was horking again, and writhing with pain. This time, someone had kicked him in his lower back when I wasn't looking. What are these, evil gnomes attacking when my back is turned?! The bastards! Labs hadn't come back by midnight (busy night in the ER), so I asked the nurse for a ballpark time of when we would be sent home. She couldn't reasonably give me one, so I left my husband to sleep (at this point, he had some pain killers and a bigger dose of anti-nausea medication) with the promise that I would wake the baby and we would come get him as soon as he was discharged.

Charles woke at 5 am to feed, and still no word from Tony. Finally, he called at about 6:45. The official diagnosis, after an MRI and some painful (so I hear) belly-probing? That's right, appendicitis.

He had laproscopic surgery at about 11 am today, and is now on the road to recovery. When he finally woke from the anaesthesia (he's a lightweight), he told me he felt like a million bucks. I guess any thing's better than an inflated appendix. He'll be going home tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be child-wrangling solo, so don't expect much in terms of updates. Instead, give us a call tomorrow, anytime. He'll probably be bored before too long :-)


Kate said...

Yikes. I hope Tony recovers quickly.

Long Beach said...

I shall remember 9/8 no more as the anniversary of the date of Star Trek's first airing, but as the day Tony ended the cling-on relationship he had with his appendix. May the force be with you, Tony.

beachdog.com said...

Oops... I was logged in to the wrong acct; "Long Beach" is me!

K Schimmy said...

Oh, the pain... his experience mirrors my own with my gall bladder four years ago! Those useless organs really pack a whallop when they turn on us. Now that it's gone, perhaps he will have phantom appendix pains. =)

Get well soon, Tony!

chasecarole said...


I'm glad you got that taken care of. My cousin's appendix actually burst and he was a sick puppy for quite some time. Muffin had an appendicitis attack a few years ago and he blames the episode on French bread, of which he eat a whole loaf (yep you heard me, whole loaf) prior to said attack. Still won't eat it to this day.

As I always say when seriously ill, at least he gets a day off.

Hope you're feeling better soon, Tony!