Ringing in the New Year
Well.
2019 has started off with a bang.
As I type this I am sitting in a hospital room while J dozes in his bed. It's funny, because I know-- I know-- life takes crazy turns all the time, usually when you least expect it. But it's odd to see so many upbeat posts on facebook about what a wonderful year 2019 will be and all the blessings it is going to bring while you feel that 2019 began with a sucker punch to the gut.
New Year's Eve was an adventure (I told Terence I wanted to go on a hike for my birthday, and I'll just say this-- Terence is a saint for not strangling me before the end) but I'll save that story for another time. We made it home about 9:30pm or so, and I was wet, muddy and exhausted, with no energy to tackle any midnight partying, even with the kids. So the plan was to read scriptures and go to bed, though I promised the kids I would set an alarm and get up to do the countdown with them. But J complained he wasn't feeling well and asked to go to bed. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I just got over a brutal cold and I guess I assumed he was coming down with it.
Just before midnight my phone alarm went off and I dragged myself out of bed to join the kids (my kids are night owls, and even the seven year old was wide awake and excited to blow her party horn). Terence was bushed (see above where he is a saint) so he stayed in bed. But when I went out J was curled up in a chair in the living room, instead of asleep in bed. I asked him if he was OK, and he said his stomach hurt. I left him and went into the other room where the other kids had a New Year's countdown on the computer. We had a little family horn-blowing free-for-all at midnight, and then I woke Terence and asked him to give J a priesthood blessing. No complaint at all for Terence-- he dragged himself back out of bed and came into the living room. J sat down in a chair, and just as Terence was about to start, J threw up all over his feet (and mine).
So mystery solved, we thought. J had the stomach flu.
After cleaning everything up, Terence gave J a blessing, and J said he felt much better. I got him some Gatorade and a bowl (so hopefully no more major clean ups ahead) and then collapsed in bed. I was about delirious by that time, and I couldn't stay up another minute.
The next morning J said his stomach was hurting again. He moved between his bed and the living room, unable to do more than fitfully doze. I still assumed stomach flu, though he didn't throw up again. He managed to drink two bottles of Gatorade and eat a little dry cereal. In the late afternoon we had plans to go out to dinner with my parents, and the kids were supposed to hang out at their house and eat pizza while we were gone. J originally wanted to stay home, but at the last second felt uncomfortable being left behind.
Once or twice during the day I had started to worry that maybe, just maybe, it was his appendix. My grandmother's brother died of a ruptured appendix when he was 19, and that came to mind more than once. I'd looked up symptoms, but they didn't really seem to match. He didn't have a fever, for one. J said the pain was in his back now, which made me wonder about kidney stones. But when I asked about his pain level, on a 1-10 scale, he told me it was only a 3. So I pushed aside my worries and we went out to dinner.
When we got back home, J was curled up and rigid from pain. He said it was now a 7. I started to look up urgent care options. Of course, our insurance had changed as of January 1st, with higher co-pays and deductibles, and a stricter definition of emergency care and what would be paid for. We were very nervous about being stuck with an ER bill the insurance refused to pay, yet no urgent care place taking our insurance was open. Terence and I finally decided to take him into urgent care when the doors opened in the morning.
Yet I was still wound tight with anxiety. (I didn't check my blood pressure that night, but I expect it was probably sky high.)
Finally, I went in to J (curled up and moaning on the couch) and explained our dilemma to him. And asked him if he needed to go to the hospital. He said yes, he needed the hospital. So Terence and I loaded him up to go to the ER. It was about 11pm on New Year's Day.
Once we were in the car, it was like the anxiety dropped fifty degrees. I was still worried, but I was calm. I knew that taking him to the ER was the right thing to do, never mind what it might cost us.
Thank goodness we did!!
We got called back in the ER after only a 15 minute wait. J's pain was getting worse and worse, but they got him in for a CT scan, and by 1am we had the officially news that he had appendicitis and would need surgery in the morning. They gave him some morphine and started antibiotics and J finally dozed a bit. At that point Terence sent me home to get some sleep, with the plan that I would come back to the hospital in time for the surgery.
Needless to say, tired as I was, I didn't sleep well. After four hours of broken sleep I dragged myself back up and headed to the hospital (in the coldest weather Phoenix has seen in a long time, brrrr). The surgery took twice as long as they originally projected, and when the surgeon met with us afterward, he explained that when they got in there, they found that his appendix had ruptured and they had a lot of infection to flush out. Still, J is young and healthy and he promised that we had caught it in time and that he would be OK.
So here we are, working through the recovery. J sleeps a lot. It's very difficult to move, and he still has drains connected to his abdomen to remove the infected gunk. He doesn't have an appetite yet (sooooo odd, J has been an eating machine for the last couple years) but everything still looks like it is healing like it should. Terence is staying with him at night and I am staying with him during the day. Best case scenario he will be able to go home tomorrow, though that depends on how the draining is going.
In any case, J is off the hook for his race on Saturday. This seems like an extreme way for him to get out of a 9k trail run though!
2019 has started off with a bang.
As I type this I am sitting in a hospital room while J dozes in his bed. It's funny, because I know-- I know-- life takes crazy turns all the time, usually when you least expect it. But it's odd to see so many upbeat posts on facebook about what a wonderful year 2019 will be and all the blessings it is going to bring while you feel that 2019 began with a sucker punch to the gut.
New Year's Eve was an adventure (I told Terence I wanted to go on a hike for my birthday, and I'll just say this-- Terence is a saint for not strangling me before the end) but I'll save that story for another time. We made it home about 9:30pm or so, and I was wet, muddy and exhausted, with no energy to tackle any midnight partying, even with the kids. So the plan was to read scriptures and go to bed, though I promised the kids I would set an alarm and get up to do the countdown with them. But J complained he wasn't feeling well and asked to go to bed. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I just got over a brutal cold and I guess I assumed he was coming down with it.
Just before midnight my phone alarm went off and I dragged myself out of bed to join the kids (my kids are night owls, and even the seven year old was wide awake and excited to blow her party horn). Terence was bushed (see above where he is a saint) so he stayed in bed. But when I went out J was curled up in a chair in the living room, instead of asleep in bed. I asked him if he was OK, and he said his stomach hurt. I left him and went into the other room where the other kids had a New Year's countdown on the computer. We had a little family horn-blowing free-for-all at midnight, and then I woke Terence and asked him to give J a priesthood blessing. No complaint at all for Terence-- he dragged himself back out of bed and came into the living room. J sat down in a chair, and just as Terence was about to start, J threw up all over his feet (and mine).
So mystery solved, we thought. J had the stomach flu.
After cleaning everything up, Terence gave J a blessing, and J said he felt much better. I got him some Gatorade and a bowl (so hopefully no more major clean ups ahead) and then collapsed in bed. I was about delirious by that time, and I couldn't stay up another minute.
The next morning J said his stomach was hurting again. He moved between his bed and the living room, unable to do more than fitfully doze. I still assumed stomach flu, though he didn't throw up again. He managed to drink two bottles of Gatorade and eat a little dry cereal. In the late afternoon we had plans to go out to dinner with my parents, and the kids were supposed to hang out at their house and eat pizza while we were gone. J originally wanted to stay home, but at the last second felt uncomfortable being left behind.
Once or twice during the day I had started to worry that maybe, just maybe, it was his appendix. My grandmother's brother died of a ruptured appendix when he was 19, and that came to mind more than once. I'd looked up symptoms, but they didn't really seem to match. He didn't have a fever, for one. J said the pain was in his back now, which made me wonder about kidney stones. But when I asked about his pain level, on a 1-10 scale, he told me it was only a 3. So I pushed aside my worries and we went out to dinner.
When we got back home, J was curled up and rigid from pain. He said it was now a 7. I started to look up urgent care options. Of course, our insurance had changed as of January 1st, with higher co-pays and deductibles, and a stricter definition of emergency care and what would be paid for. We were very nervous about being stuck with an ER bill the insurance refused to pay, yet no urgent care place taking our insurance was open. Terence and I finally decided to take him into urgent care when the doors opened in the morning.
Yet I was still wound tight with anxiety. (I didn't check my blood pressure that night, but I expect it was probably sky high.)
Finally, I went in to J (curled up and moaning on the couch) and explained our dilemma to him. And asked him if he needed to go to the hospital. He said yes, he needed the hospital. So Terence and I loaded him up to go to the ER. It was about 11pm on New Year's Day.
Once we were in the car, it was like the anxiety dropped fifty degrees. I was still worried, but I was calm. I knew that taking him to the ER was the right thing to do, never mind what it might cost us.
Thank goodness we did!!
We got called back in the ER after only a 15 minute wait. J's pain was getting worse and worse, but they got him in for a CT scan, and by 1am we had the officially news that he had appendicitis and would need surgery in the morning. They gave him some morphine and started antibiotics and J finally dozed a bit. At that point Terence sent me home to get some sleep, with the plan that I would come back to the hospital in time for the surgery.
Needless to say, tired as I was, I didn't sleep well. After four hours of broken sleep I dragged myself back up and headed to the hospital (in the coldest weather Phoenix has seen in a long time, brrrr). The surgery took twice as long as they originally projected, and when the surgeon met with us afterward, he explained that when they got in there, they found that his appendix had ruptured and they had a lot of infection to flush out. Still, J is young and healthy and he promised that we had caught it in time and that he would be OK.
So here we are, working through the recovery. J sleeps a lot. It's very difficult to move, and he still has drains connected to his abdomen to remove the infected gunk. He doesn't have an appetite yet (sooooo odd, J has been an eating machine for the last couple years) but everything still looks like it is healing like it should. Terence is staying with him at night and I am staying with him during the day. Best case scenario he will be able to go home tomorrow, though that depends on how the draining is going.
In any case, J is off the hook for his race on Saturday. This seems like an extreme way for him to get out of a 9k trail run though!
Comments