“Then I will have an appendectomy”*

This is a really long post, probably mostly for my own benefit to remember what went on the last few days before all the drugs make it completely hazy.  I thought about posting some of the pictures the surgeon gave us of my innards to spice it up, but unless you’re a surgeon, you probably wouldn’t know what you were looking at anyway.

When I posted last week about finishing my last presentation and homework of grad school, the end was so near, I could almost taste it.  But I still had one of those massive 3-part stats exams on my to-do list.  Although technically I had until Friday the 18th to finish, I felt totally driven to finish as soon as I could.  In fact, I gave myself a deadline of Wednesday the 9th (my professor allowed us to take it early if we wanted to).  It was interesting because a lot of people kept asking why I was imposing such an early deadline on myself, worrying that I was pushing myself too hard.  And it was a little hard . . . I mean, last Saturday I spent 10 hours straight camped out on the couch doing my take-home portion.  Intense, to say the least.

But for reasons that were not entirely clear to me, I just HAD to get my stats final done by Wednesday.  I wouldn’t say it felt like a spiritual prompting; I just felt like I needed to get it done by Wednesday.  And amazingly, shockingly (if you’ve been following my blog you know that I have not been the most productive person over the last several months) I finished exactly according to my plans.  As I left my stats class at 5:20 Wednesday evening, I could not have been more stoked because I actually made a plan and followed through with it.  A true Christmas miracle!  God bless us, everyone!

I was so ready to party that I even ordered my celebratory pizza on my laptop during class!  I brought the pizza home to share with dear Kaila, my friend that is in town for a short visit.  We inhaled it and then got all comfy and cozy to watch “Love Actually.”  It had the makings of a great night, until about 7:00 pm when I started having abdominal pain.  It wasn’t too bad at first and I thought it was just baby girl being a little mischievous.   But at the same time, the pain was in a place that made me ask out loud, how on earth is baby girl kicking me there?! How can she even get to it?

Over the next couple of hours, the pain was intensifying but I just attributed it to digestive problems from over-consumption of delicious pizza.  I decided to go to bed early because I was feeling so crummy.  But sleep wouldn’t come and the pain kept getting worse.  Then vomiting started about 12:45 am.  I got Neal up about 1:30, and he woke my grandpa up, so that they could give me a blessing.  It was a very sweet moment, but not too long after it was becoming clear to me the pain was getting worse, the vomiting was getting worse, and it was time to book it to the emergency room.

Thankfully, there was no wait because they sent us straight up to labor and delivery.  They got me strapped to the fetal monitor and confirmed that I was having contractions.  They were not too intense according to their readings, but they were consistent and very close together.  The interesting thing though is that I wasn’t worried at all that I was going into preterm labor; it never even crossed my mind that baby girl would be born right then and there.

And she wasn’t.  They gave me medicine to relax my uterus and stop the contractions.  My blood work confirmed that I was very dehydrated, which they attributed to all the vomiting (I threw up in the hospital hallway as well . . . sorry Utah Valley janitorial staff), and they concluded that the dehydration started the contractions.  So labor and delivery is ready to discharge me, having stopped the contractions and given me an anti-nausea shot.  But thankfully, my midwife Jana called in to talk to me directly (she had been communicating with the nurses and ordering tests up to that point, about 6:30 am) and what I told her about the persistence of the pain made her think appendicitis.

So they trucked me down to the ER again to see an internal medicine specialist.  He also suspected appendicitis from my pain pattern and before I knew it, I was in the MRI machine so they could take a look at my insides.  Not the most pleasant 45 minutes ever–the noises are just deafening–but it wasn’t too bad compared to my last MRI because I got to go in feet first so my head didn’t feel quite so confined.  They were easily able to determine that my appendix was in bad shape.

Next I’m back to the ER where they begin prepping me for surgery, with everything from fetal heart monitoring to a Tylenol suppository (I’m sure you all know where suppositories go . . .  yuck!) to some wicked thing they called “bitter antacid.”  We met the surgeon at this point and he explained to us the possibility that this surgery would trigger labor and our baby would be born that day.  But of course, there was no choice.  So Neal and I had a few precious moments to contemplate this and some tears were shed.  And in case this isn’t a totally unexpected story already, the tears were Neal’s not mine.

Then I’m in “holding” while they finish getting me ready for the surgery.  Finally, the operating room where I don’t remember much before they knocked me out.  Then post-op . . . this was definitely the low point.  They said that the breathing tube they insert often irritates the throat so as I was coming to, I had the distinct feeling that 1) I could not breathe and 2) I could not swallow.  I was bordering on hysteria because I actually thought I was dying and that they weren’t helping to prevent it.  I asked for water and they said no.  I kept taking off the oxygen mask because I thought it was keeping me from breathing, and they kept putting it back on me.  I kept asking, What did they do to my shoulder? I was in extreme pain all over my abdomen, but the pain I felt in my shoulder area was the most surprising.  I distinctly remember wondering if they had taken a hammer to my shoulder just for spite.  Like I said, borderline hysteria. [The doctor has since explained to me that the shoulder pain is caused by the extra gas that they pumped into my abdomen so that they would have more space to maneuver].

It was also scary because this was the only time that baby girl was in distress.  Her heart rate was way too high, as was mine, and they kept trying to breathe with me and explain that I needed to relax so that the baby could relax too.  I distinctly remember feeling like a bad mother because although I was trying to calm down, I couldn’t figure out how to do it.  The room was spinning and I couldn’t see straight and I thought we were both dying.

After I was stabilized in post-op, they trucked me back up to labor and delivery, where I’ve been since Thursday around 4:00 pm.  For the record, I didn’t mind all this transporting from here to there because, guess what, you get to do it while laying down in bed.  It’s the only way to travel.  I’m probably spoiled for life!!

Based on the MRI, they couldn’t tell if my appendix had already ruptured or not, but luckily it had not.  Afterward the surgeon told us that he thought if we had been even ten hours later, it probably would have ruptured and caused even more serious problems.  So we just thank God that we were guided to go to the ER when we did, particularly in light of my great aversion to hospitals and the like.

Although they said there was a possibility of going home the day after the surgery, my white blood cell count is still elevated, showing that the infection persists even though my appendix is gone.  The surgeon said he could tell there was more infected fluid and tissue but because of the size of my uterus he couldn’t see the full extent nor get it all out.  I will be in the hospital until the white blood cells are back to normal because there is a danger of the infection getting into the uterus and causing either preterm labor or problems for the baby.  So far she seems to be handling it all like a champ . . . still kicking up a storm, although this feels less comforting to me than it normally does because she’s kicking places that were recently cut open.  I’ve been asking her very nicely to go to sleep, while Neal has been threatening her with groundings if she doesn’t behave more considerately.

In all my worst-case scenario worries, I definitely never saw this coming.  But the reason why I started with the story of my stats test is that Neal and I are both convinced that Heavenly Father certainly could foresee what we could not.  I just felt like I wanted to get done with my final quickly, but now I see that it was absolutely essential to give me the peace of mind that I feel right now.  I can focus entirely on my and baby girl’s health.  I can just move slowly and rest without worry about other things sliding.

So we thank God for his grace and mercy, and for family and friends that have offered every conceivable type of assistance.  These have been difficult days, but we’re glad that this baby is still safely tucked away.

* If you’re wondering about the title of this post, I should explain that ironically enough, it is an inside joke that Neal and I have.  We’ve been joking about appendectomies for almost 5 years now.  It turns out they’re not as funny as we thought.