Burst Appendix...

“There she blows!” ― Herman Melville, Moby Dick    

"How could you not have known you had appendicitis?  Wasn't the pain unbearable?"

Not to me.

"Guess you need to learn the difference between pain and injury, eh?"

Maybe.

"You must have a really high pain tolerance."

Guess so.

How does a reasonable person not know they are experiencing an appendicitis attack?  Well, if you are a generally healthy person, have not been in the hospital since your daughter's birth twenty-one years ago, and the only other surgery you remember is having your tonsils removed when you were twelve or so, the last thing you suspect is appendicitis.

Maybe it should have been the first.

Did it cross my mind that Monday when I stayed home from work that it might be my appendix?  Yes, but only briefly.  I was pretty convinced I had the flu and would be back to work the next day.  I had gone to bed early Sunday night feeling bloated, constipated, and just not right.  After numerous trips to the restroom that night and finally throwing up in the morning, I was feeling a little better, convinced I had the flu.  Lance put his hand on my forehead, pronounced I had a fever, and agreed with my assessment - probably the flu. He went to work, I stayed home.

Honestly, I don't remember most of that day.  I did have some lower abdomen pain, but I attributed that to the ab workout I had started Sunday morning. (Thanks Facebook.)  I recall thinking the workout was way too hard for day one and I should tell someone because my lower abs hurt - a lot.  Then I thought, I must be really out of shape if fifteen sit-ups, five crunches, and a ten second plank hurt this much.  I had no interest in food (looking back, I wasn't very hungry on Sunday either) or anything else for that matter.  When Lance arrived home from work, he had me drink some Pedialite (still working on the flu theory) and I went back to sleep.

Sometime after midnight I woke up with more abdominal pains, the worse I had felt yet.  I googled appendicitis on my phone and while I didn't have all the symptoms, I did have a number of them.  So, I woke Lance up and asked to go to the satellite ER located a few blocks from our house. Fortunately, we got right in (no line at 1:00am).  The doctor started pressing on my abdomen, asking if it hurt.  Honestly, not that bad.  Then she found a spot that didn't hurt when she pressed down, but man did it hurt when she released the pressure. "Eureka - a reaction!"   She ordered a CT scan and when it was complete, came in with the news that yes, I did have appendicitis, but unfortunately, my appendix had already ruptured.

The ER doctor assured us that the surgeon on call at the hospital had been notified and was pulling her team together for emergency surgery.  And that she was one of their best.  After that, things are a bit of a blur.  I remember an ambulance ride (bumpier than I expected) and that the driver and attendee were very nice to me.  I remember Lance saying he would quickly run home to take care of our dog Ellie, and then he would meet me at the hospital.  I remember being whisked to a room in the hospital and prepped for surgery.  I remember Lance being with me as I was taken down to the operating room and then I remember waking up in recovery. 

Later, I found out that the appendix is a finger like protrusion, normally located on the base of the right hand side of the colon, pointing toward the outside of the hips.  Mine was on the right hand part of the colon, but located more to the left and pointed toward the center of my pelvis (not as common).  Most of the time, when an appendix ruptures, it ruptures out the end.   Mine ruptured at the base of the colon.  This meant I had to be cut open so the surgeon could remove the appendix, the damaged part of the colon, all the gunk it had released into my body and finally put Humpty Dumpty back together again. 

Since I didn't catch this until after my appendix ruptured, I went from a fairly routine laparoscopic surgery to a major cutting me open surgery that lasted a couple of hours.  I spent five days in the hospital and now have about five weeks of at home recovery in front of me.  Believe me when I say this, there are better ways to spend time off from work.  Moral of the story, listen to your body and don't make excuses for the pains you are feeling.  If it "crosses your mind" that you might have a serious injury - go to the doctor.  It could save your life.

My Vanities....

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice    

"I feel so ugly!" was my tearful assessment that first night home from the hospital as I surveyed my limp hair, the tube sticking out my lower abdomen and my lost stomach muscles. 

Wow, had I forgotten I just had major surgery?  What was wrong with me?  I should be thankful that I was even alive and here I was worrying about my looks.

Thinking back to my hospital stay, I remember a couple of good friends asked if I was up to visitors.  My response, "I smell bad and look kind of greasy but would love a visit."  Even in my hospital bed I was concerned with how I looked.  How sad it that?

It gets worse. The Monday after my release from the hospital, when my home health care nurse came to change the dressing on my incision and put in a new wound vac tube, my first instinct was to lament "I look like a homeless person."  (In my defense, I was wearing Lance's flannel pajama bottoms with the bleach stains hung low on my hips, an old oversized tee with a Scuba Mexico insignia and a ten year old track jacket; my hair still unwashed and my face shiny with oil.)

This past weekend, as Lance and I were sitting out on the deck,, he suggested I might want to go for a walk with him and Ellie to the end of the block and back.  He said we could wait until after dark so no one could see me with my tubes, if that would make me more comfortable.  (Does he know me or what?)   That got me thinking - did it really matter if my neighbors saw me when I looked less than my best?  So, I bit the bullet and walked with him - in broad daylight with my unwashed hair and unfashionable outfit.  And I am glad I did.

Later that night, he took me for a drive in the convertible to get a root beer float. I have to admit, I did pull my hair back in a ponytail to try to look more presentable.  (Hey, old habits die hard.)  But, I did not let my pride get in the way of a lovely evening drive with my husband.  Yeah me!

So, I admit it - I am a vain creature.  I want to look good - for myself, for my husband, for others around me.  I look forward to wearing my normal clothes, styling my hair, and putting on makeup.  Maybe a little pride is not such a bad thing. It is what gets me going in the morning; putting on a new change of clothes, showering when I can, washing my hair, walking around the house trying to get my strength back.  It is part of what motivates me to heal.

And that can not be all bad.

Flowers, Cards and Healing Prayers...

Quick update:  I was recently hospitalized for a ruptured appendix and it involved some major surgery including the removal of a portion of my colon, some internal reconstruction and infection clean-up (a blog for another day).  I am now at home recuperating. Which means I have more time to contemplate life, appreciate each day and (hopefully) write.

I see trees of green,
red roses too.
I see them bloom,
for me and you.
And I think to myself,
what a wonderful world.
LOUIS ARMSTRONG (Lyrics from "What a Wonderful World")

Flowers...

One of the first pleasant memories I have of my stay in the hospital is seeing my daughter's face as she bounded into my room with her amazing energy and infectious smile, gently saying "Mama!".   She was followed by a hospital volunteer and two bouquets of flowers.  One was a colorful arrangement from my fellow co-workers in Denver and the other was a cheerful yellow concoction in a happy face mug from my former co-workers and dear friends in Minneapolis. Kaitlyn quickly went to work making my room a "home" arranging pictures she brought from our house and my flowers.What a wonderful surprise!  A little later that evening, another amazing bouquet arrived from the associates at my husband's small business. Everyone who entered my room commented on how great it smelled. 

It was not until the next day that I realized there was a tiny little arrangement of fabric flowers in the corner that Kailyn had quietly placed the day before.  She had secretly added some essential oils to the basket - the source of the amazing smells everyone commented on.  I was already feeling very loved, when the hospital volunteers made two more trips to my room.  The first, a small lily arrangement from a new friend meant more to me than words can express.  It gave me a sense of belonging - that Denver truly was my new home.  The second, an arrangement from my nieces and nephews that looked like a white fluffy puppy sitting in a basket with a Band-Aid on her paw, made me smile and think of my dog Ellie every time I looked at it.

As I approached my potential release, I realized I had a problem...what to do with all those flowers.  My husband had a suggestion, which I pounced on - ask the nurse to find home for this special form of healing and comfort.  There were plenty of patients who were not as fortunate as I was and it would be a great way to pay it forward.  So, I took home my happy face mug and the Colorado connection flowers, leaving the rest to brighten another patients day. 

Get Well Cards...

I am a card sender.  When some one is sick - I send a card.  Hospital?  Card.  Birthday?  Card.  The passing of a loved one?  Another card.  I usually write a short personal note but am never quite sure it is actually read.  Well, I am here to tell you - the notes do get read.  Upon my return home I discovered I had small collection of get well cards waiting for me to feel well enough to open.  I appreciatively read each and every card.  Words of support, prayer, and best wishes meant a great deal to me.  I smiled at the comments from the individuals on the group cards as I pictured each person in my mind.  And I read in wonder the cards from people I hardly knew but had somehow touched their lives enough to make them want to send me a card.  Believe me - cards and a brief word of kindness are an underappreciated form of compassion.

Healing Prayers...

I have been a Christian all my life.  As such I have often said "my prayers are with you" or "we are praying for you" in the event of bad news or illness.   And generally, I did say a small prayer for healing and moved on with my life.  I was never really sure if it helped or even mattered, but I felt compelled to do as I said I would (ever the rule follower).  Well, I am here to tell you it does matter.  My first night in the hospital, simply put, I felt the power of prayer.  As I prepared for sleep and closed my eyes, hovering in that in-between state of awake and out for the night, I saw what seemed like hundreds of eyes looking at me with love.  Some I recognized, some I did not.  I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and well-being.  Then, I slept.  But, the feeling stuck with me and my healing continues.  From now on, when I say "I'll pray for you", I will.  Not out of obligation, but out of the belief that it does truly help.

Thank you to all my friends and family for your healing support.  It is truly appreciated.
 

Now That's a Mountain...

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."  Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz

Growing up in a small town on the southern edge of where "Wisconsin Vacationland" begins I had no idea what real mountains were.  Ask me about lakes or rivers and I could tell you where the best spots to sunbath were (the beach at Council Grounds State Park), have a family picnic (toss up between Tug Lake and Stange's Kitchenette Park), or go midnight skinny dipping (Ott's Park - but don't tell anyone!)  We water skied on the Wisconsin River (okay, my friends water skied while I rode in the boat - never could get the hang of that sport, no matter how many times I tried), swam in the Prairie River as a child (watch out for blood suckers!) and headed up to Minocqua or Tomahawk to watch the water ski shows.  Recreational activities generally revolved around water.

Not to say we had no exposure to elevation...I did sled down Wilson's Hill located a few blocks from my house.  It was so high, we needed a tow rope to get up if you were skiing.  I never skied down the hill, but I rode up the tow rope a few times sitting on a piece of cardboard (when it was not busy and my brother's friend was the operator).  For those of you who have not figured it out yet, Wilson's hill was just that - a hill.  To a kid who could move pretty fast going down it on a toboggan full of people it was gigantic - but in reality, I am pretty sure it was probably quite a bit less than a hundred feet from top to bottom.

While my hometown could not boast of anything larger than a few sledding hills - we only had to drive about fifteen miles south to encounter Rib Mountain.  Now that was something!  It had a ski slope with actual chair lifts.  Rib Mountain Recreational Area is 1924 feet above sea level at its highest point (or approximately 700 feet in elevation above the local terrain). In recent years, the ski area has changed its name from Rib Mountain to Granite Peak (which is ironic since the "mountain" is actually a large block of quartzite - no granite in sight).  Legend has it that Rib Mountain split the last glacial flow over Wisconsin and in turn formed the rocky area just to the south known as the Wisconsin Dells.  Unfortunately, this is just a fun myth.  According to an article on Rib Mountain by Keith Montgomery, Ph.D. at the UW-Marathon County, it was most likely the Great Lakes basins that shaped the ice flow and caused the split - not Rib Mountain. Oh well...

It took our move to Colorado for me to discover what real mountains are. In fact, I can see an entire mountain range on my drive into work, the drive to church, our drive to visit Kaitlyn in Boulder, or just about anywhere else we go.  Looking out the large picture window on the west side of our house, I can see Mount Evans (14,265 feet above sea level).  I can also point out Pike's Peak (14,115 feet) and Long's Peak (14,259 feet) when looking at the full mountain range.  Not bad for a flatlander!  I now know what it means to climb a fourteener (any one of the 14,000 foot or higher elevation mountains in Colorado) and learned that some people have a goal to climb all of them.  In answer your unspoken question, no, I probably will not be climbing one in the near future!

Living near a mountain range is an interesting experience for a Midwest girl.  For one thing, who knew that while the mountains can get snow almost year round - Denver, where I live, is a high plains desert?  Temperatures by my house will be in the 90's most of the summer - but we can drive less than an hour into the foothills, explore a small mountain town or go on a hiking trail and enjoy temperatures in the mid to upper 70's.  Amazing.  Another interesting fact, cities don't post the population under their name on sign markers - oh no - they boast the elevation of the town.  I still have not figured that one out - other than it helps you to know why you are so winded and thirsty! 

My husband's favorite tour for our guests is the drive them to the top of Pike's Peak.  Most of our visitors have no idea what to expect despite our warnings of "bring a jacket", "the best view is on the drivers side", and "we'll stop for a drink at a nice little wine restaurant we know when we get back down to the bottom."  The drive up can be nerve-wracking for some (I have actually gotten used to it), exciting for others (in addition to the awesome views, we once saw a herd of mountain goats), and always worth it when we get out at the top.  The views are amazing! 

The longer I live in Colorado, the more I have discovered the wonders of living near the mountains.  The are always beautiful to view from a distance - looking like a backdrop in an old western movie.  They are exciting to drive through - as long as someone else is driving, please.  They are a place of peaceful  contemplation, exhilarating adventures, and a glorious part of my new life.  Welcome to the mountains!