Easter Sunday was a wonderful day. MSB and I went to early services and enjoyed an inspired message, then made a bee-line to Bryan to be with the family. The kids’ mom and step-dad hosted a wonderful Easter lunch for us, the Js, Amelia, and Chris, and Amelia had a terrific time hunting eggs in their vast backyard. The weather was cool and inviting, the company fun–the whole day was just relaxing and a well-needed break.
But that night was an entirely different story. I felt a burst of pain in the right side of my stomach that radiated throughout my belly. I stumbled from the bed to the living room, dazed and hyperventilating, my heart hammering in panic. The pain felt like someone had poured juice from a jar of pickled jalapenos into an open wound. I paced from couch to recliner, my mind too consumed with the pain to know what to do. All I wanted was relief, to sit or to lie down in such a way as to ease the pain and rest. I called for MSB a few times, but I’d closed the bedroom door when I left. He couldn’t hear me, and I didn’t have the strength to go back to him.
Finally, around two or three in the morning, I settled in the recliner and was okay as long as I didn’t move. I stayed there until my doctor’s office was open and we could call, but they said he wouldn’t be able to get back with me until that afternoon. When he did call at two pm, he told me to get to the emergency room–which we should’ve already done. I’m not sure why I didn’t have MSB carry me in much earlier. By the time he woke up, I was fairly calm and stable so it didn’t dawn on either of us to go to the ER.
So by three pm April 5, the Monday after Easter, I was heavily doped in a tiny cubicle in the ER awaiting my fate, which didn’t occur until 9:30 that night when I went in for surgery. I had a perforated bowel and a bad case of peritonitis. My doctor repaired the perforation and cleaned the poison out, but later told us that if he’d removed everything in my gut that looked bad, I wouldn’t have had anything left. I can only hope, after having ten days of IV antibiotics and seven days of being fed through my veins, that his opinion would be different today.
After eleven days in the hospital–seven of which were spent hitting the button on my personal morphine dispenser–I got to go home. That was last Thursday. Today, I’m a bit better. I’m weak, my brain’s still foggy from residual morphine (I forgot how long it takes to get it out of my system, but it seems like forever), and for some reason my body won’t let me sleep in any position other than flat on my back. I also have a few odd pains that I don’t understand, some of which keep me from taking a deep breath or make yawning painful.
This is a result of Crohn’s Disease. The attack comes out of nowhere and needs no reason to strike other than whim. From what I understand, I’ll be going through this periodically, the last time was in 2008. God is always with me when this happens, He always lends me His strength. He brings into my life wonderful nurses and techs, reminds me who my friends are, and reinforces the fact that the man He chose for me is indeed the most wonderful man on the planet. He blesses me so much that the illness is tolerable.
Hopefully by next week I’ll be well enough and lucid enough to resume my posts and get back to life. Meanwhile, be patient with me, okay?
Love you all!