There are three lessons I learned from this entire ordeal: I hate hospitals in general, I <3 nurses, and I hate getting cut up. Oh, and throw in the fact that I should go for check-ups more often.
How the whole thing started
It started two weeks before I got admitted to the hospital (but I didn’t know back then, of course). There was unbearable pain in my abdominal area and stomach so I was brought to the hospital’s ER. After some inconclusive tests, the pain was passed off as “acute gastritis”. The doctor said I shouldn’t eat oily or acidic food and just fart out the pain. Seriously, he said that. So after taking gastritis medication and maybe farting out the pain (I’m really not sure if I did that), it disappeared. I was even able to go with my peeps and frolic in Lobo because the pain was “gone”.
Two days later, the pain was back and I found myself back in the ER.
When it happened, and why so serious
I waited till work was done before I went to the hospital. By then, I had already been in pain for close to six hours. (I know, stupid. Rio S. has already said that, so go be creative.) Luke and I walked in slow motion to MMC (it was just two blocks away), and then went through all the same procedures in the ER. The tests were still inconclusive, but the attending doctor this time was so convinced it was appendicitis that he pressed the right side of my abdomen several times I had to admit wholeheartedly that it really was appendicitis. I <3 that doctor, if only because he slighted the doctor who said I just had to “fart out” the pain.
Further tests (a CT scan and some unspeakable procedures done in the OR by gynecologists) showed that it was indeed appendicitis – with a twist. So Appendectomy and Salpingo-Oophorectomy were to be performed on my sorry carcass. (Yes, please Google what Salpingo-Oophorectomy means.) The experts weren’t sure which of the two was actually causing the pain.
The procedure
The double surgery was scheduled the morning after, so I had time to contemplate my chances of success with spawning, as well as how costly the procedure was and how large of a chunk it was going to chew off my mediocre savings. Fortunately, I slept soundly that night, so I didn’t actually think of these things.
Honestly, there isn’t much to say about the operation itself. I fell asleep the moment I was asked to pose like a fetus (for the anaesthesia) and only woke up completely when I was back in my room. Oh, and I was probably mumbling stuff about porch lighting and tubal ligation when I was in the OR, because I remember waking up sometime after the operation and seeing the lights overhead and thinking, “Geez, solar lights.”
The double surgery went off without a hitch. They removed the overgrown toe, er, appendix and the two alien children that had comfortably nested inside me. (They’re ginormous cysts, btw, if you’re getting confused now.) Luke saw them, but forgot to take pictures. (Pictures or it didn’t happen!)
Recovery period
The recovery period was probably the hardest part. Laughing was an activity I couldn’t enjoy because the wound hurt like hell. But with all my friends visiting me (complete with remarks like “Are those ‘bangling’ earrings?”), laughter was inevitable. I ended up crying while laughing because the wound hurt so much. My mother even had to push down a pillow over my wound so it wouldn’t be as painful. Unfortunately, that didn’t help, and the topic of “bangling” earrings was banned.
What made this period pleasant though, was my mother, Luke, and the nurses. Luke and my mother were there almost every night. And it’s true that nothing beats the love of a mother for her child (Yes, I’m getting all teary-eyed here). She washed my hair in the sink because it was starting to stink from non-bathing. And helped me change my clothes and went with me to the loo when I couldn’t move without help. Yes, it’s gross, but I’m much loved, so get over it. And Luke, well, he just is.
The nurses in MMC were also very nice. I’m not sure if that’s because they have to “care” for the patients, or because they genuinely care about a patient’s well-being to some extent. Either way, I <3 them, especially the ones who attended to me. There was one really pretty nurse named Nikki who I wished Rio S. would’ve met. Really very pretty, Rio. And tall, too. And Paul, the guy nurse who answered all my questions in a serious manner, even when I was just asking for the heck of it and to relieve boredom. It’s amazing to learn, too, that most nurses in that hospital wing are 2006 to 2008 graduates, and that most of the older nurses have left for “greener pastures”. It’s amazing and sad at the same time.
The end result
I racked up a bill amounting to about 120k. Good thing my health insurance was sort of reliable. Not much was chipped away from my measly savings. Still, I didn’t know that MMC billed you for each pair of latex gloves, each piece of unsuccessfully inserted IV needle and tiny alcohol wipes they used on you while you stayed in their “suite” of a hospital room. Oh, well, I hate hospitals.
I’ve recovered enough to go back to work next Monday. I’m still not sure how I will manage to commute again – ride a jeepney, a tricycle and even the MRT. But I guess I’ll get there fine, right? Right.
