Woke up around 0730 this past Friday to a feeling of bloating in my tummy. Put it down to the previous day’s poor diet of Macca’s with each kid, breakfast and afternoon tea. Went back to bed after breakfast of cereal and found I could only sleep in very particular positions without it hurting. Figured it would get better later so I had a nap.
Closer to 1300 it was still hurting. Half a vegemite sandwich and it was starting to hurt a lot whilst moving and being quite tender when just sitting. Decide it is time to see someone about this but who? Went with the GP, they are closer and the parking is free.
Stumbled in and asked for the first available doctor, waited until 1500 before being seen. Initial suspicions were bladder infection of possible constipation blocking the bladder from emptying fully. So went for an X-Ray, then an ultrasound. X-ray showed that whilst most people think I am full of shit, at this time I was not. Ultrasound was less conclusive too, they couldn’t see my appendix but everything in the general area was looking enlarged and angry. At this point the doctor bumped me around the corner to the radiologist’s bigger office so I could get a CT Scan.
I drove around the corner, really shouldn’t have but whatever, and yeah, the CT Scan shows that my little appendix was looking for trouble. They wrote up a report, handed it to me and pointed me at the Emergency Department with the words, “It’s not very bad now but you should get this checked out as soon as you can”.
Drove home, parked the car, backed a bag with some snacks, another sandwich, and a battery pack and headphones and got an Uber down to the local ED. Walked in to reception at 1800. Receptionist asks, “What’s the problem?” I hand her the report, tell her my appendix is being dramatic, and she gets me ‘fast tracked’. Triage nurse looks skeptical about it but does the usual tests.
After triage I get to hang out in the waiting room with everyone else, was rather noisy but seemed to be flowing well enough. At this point my best supporter shows up after a long day at work and takes to distracting me from the stabby pains in my bladder region. We even made a friend who had sat next to us.
At 2030 I get taken out of the waiting room to the extra comfy chairs in the actual Emergency Department. We’re not admitted yet but we are in with a better chance to see the doctor. I get a canula put in and a litre of saline with some antibiotics pumped in too. My blood pressure is a bit low but it usually is, no temperatures or anything. In fact, with the introduction of paracetamol to my system, I’m starting to wonder if I need to be here at all.
And the waiting game started. To be fair, it was Friday night at 2100 and most of the surgeons had gone home already. The on call doctor rolls in, reviews all the scans I had already had and suggests removal of the appendix since even if we fixed it with antibiotics this time, it’s far more likely to flare up again later.
At this point I ate a bit of the food I had brought, the ED gives me an additional sandwich, and then I send the Missus home, she’s had a long day and I now just have to wait to be admitted, to get a bed I can sleep in, and to await the arrival of the surgeons in the morning to yeet it out. Sadly what actually happened is I was left in the reclining chair with leg rests until 1300 on Saturday where I get taken up to theatre.
Theatre was stunningly empty, dozens of beds, no one in them. I was a bit perturbed by that after my stunning three hours of broken sleep in a chair downstairs. Took three goes but we found one that was almost long enough for me. Now the repetition started. A dozen medical professionals of varying rank and duty came to me one at a time to confirm my name, my birthday, any allergies, any implants, enhancements, drug use, smoking, drinking, and any other possible causes of complications.
At this point my time keeping gets fuzzy as I am no longer wearing any pants with pockets and my phone is packed away but at roughly 1500 I am wheeled into the OR, I walk to the operating bed, then they knock me out. They only had to wave the anesthesia under my nose and the lack of sleep did the rest.
Next thing I remember is waking up around 1730 on my side in a new room with gadgets attached to my fingers and tubes all over the place. I tap on the bed and get the nurses attention as talking hurts after being intubated and coughing with a recently operated on belly sucked a LOT. I got a couple of cups of orange juice, a sandwich, some water, the first hit of endone, then I just passed out again at roughly 1830.
At 2015 I had started to overstay my welcome, I was woken up and told to go and do a wee. You’re not allowed to leave Recovery until you have done a wee. I was able to with gusto thanks to the orange juice from two hours earlier. A script was written up for some endone to take home, the nurses found it odd that I was on such a really low dose given the surgery I had just had so they got me enough to cover a few days and then my ride arrived. Small wait for the paperwork to be written up and then I walked out the door.
All told, from entering the GP at 1430 on Friday to leaving the hospital at 2100 on Saturday, it was easy enough to get the pain diagnosed, treated, and back home. The wait was longer than I was hoping for but you get what you pay for and for this whole thing, talking to half a dozen doctors, the blood tests, the x-ray, ultrasound, CT scan, anesthesia, antibiotics every 6-8 hours, the IV saline, the dozen or so nurses, the orderlies pushing me from one place to the next, the grand total on the bill was $0.