So here goes nothing...
Monday, 7 p.m.: Ouch. This off-and-on pain that began Saturday night has now continued into day three in its worst form yet. It might be time to do something now that the jutting into my right side isn't going away.
After the "maybe it'll just magically disappear stage" fades, I make the decision to go the emergency room. Now that I have a car, I decide I can drive over there. It will probably be something stupid, I'll feel better and just head home. I pull out my keys and head down to the parking lot. As I put the key into the ignition, my month-old Ford Focus is not starting.
Hit the internal panic button.
In an instant, I became as frantic as a head coach after a ref misses a call.
"Screw it." I jolt back up to my apartment, call my grandma, then decide I'm just gonna have to call a cab.
But remember, I'm in total panic mode right now, kind of like when the 2011 Eagles realized the "dream team" they assembled was a bust going absolutely nowhere. I call a cab company who can't tell me exactly how quickly the cab will get to my apartment.
Cue more freaking out. I call my grandma and tell her my appendix will probably rupture before the cab even gets here (no overdramatic antics at all here).
The cab ends up getting to my apartment in about 10 minutes. My panic was about as warranted as the five minutes everyone flipped out last week on Twitter when Tom Brady threw a late-game interception before leading a game-winning drive against the Saints.
Anyway, I get to the emergency room and get my bracelet. I see the doctor relatively expediently and get ordered to have some tests.
Back in the waiting room, there's no Monday Night Football to watch but instead Dancing with the Stars.
As my wait continues, the one saving grace is that Elizabeth Berkley is going to perform a dance to "I'm So Excited," channeling every wonderful Saved by the Bell memory of my youth. How fitting that at the very moment I am nervous about my fate, Jessie Spano is recreating her fears about caffeine pills in the form of a reality television dance.
I can't tell you how much this meant to me.
However, as the wait goes on, I'm becoming much less thrilled with this whole ordeal. Castle is on, then the news, and Jimmy Kimmel. I sit on the floor and charge my phone for a little while, thankful in my frenzy earlier in the evening that I had the foresight to bring the charger. There's this really annoying family in the waiting room who is slowly wearing away at my nerves and I just want to move along.
Finally, just before midnight, I get called in to get the tests done.
By now, I'm really tired, sitting on a bed in an ER room. From here, I call off work just before I'm wheeled away to get a cat-scan.
One side note: the TV in this ER has Showtime. I'm watching ads for Homeland and Masters of Sex in between visits from the nurse or doctor and that's kinda crazy.
Anyway, the doctor comes back in and says it looks like I may have appendicitis.
Thud.
Apparently, I'm the last patient in that wing of the ER for the night so I have to be moved. I get wheeled into a hallway while waiting for a bed to open. At least this provides some entertainment.
My favorite bit was probably this creepy looking guy standing outside of the restroom, which was right across from where I was stationed. A woman was in there when he initially approached so he had to wait. He awkwardly watches as the nurse is taking my vitals. The woman exits the bathroom and my nurse asks him if he was waiting for the bathroom. No response.
Thirty seconds later, she again asks and tells him no one is in there. He still doesn't answer. It takes another physically going up to him for this guy to actually make use of the facility and stop gawking.
Soon after, a surgeon comes to the spot I've made mine in the hallway and tells me I have acute appendicitis and will be having my appendix removed. He was very clear, nothing like the literal doctor on "Arrested Development" who always confused the Bluths.
It's past 4 a.m. now. People from work are tweeting and I realize this is turning into a saga - not quite a three-parter like Twilight but we're getting there. I decide to use social media to tweet that I'm getting my appendix out. A co-worker asks if me I'll be back into work later that day. I spend a minute debating if he's joking or serious.
My awesome nurse finally gets me a room and I am put in a wheelchair then taken to a new area. The doctor had initially told me the surgery could be as soon as 7:30 a.m. which was like three hours away. Talk about quick (it wouldn't happen that soon).
My mom comes that morning and then we wait some more.
I'm not allowed to eat or drink but my nurse gives me these swabs to wet my mouth which were basically the most amazing tools at that given moment.
Finally around noon, a woman in all blue enters the room and it's time.
I'm brought outside a room and a slew of anesthesiologists come up to me. I'm asked my name and birthday so many times that I feel like a celebrity - everyone wants to know my name.
The anesthesiologist asks me if a couple drinks usually get to me. I tell her I went to OU.
She gives me something and I'm starting to fade a bit. She tells me I'd be a cheap date. This makes me laugh.
I'm brought into the operating room and put on a more narrow surface. A mask is put over my mouth and after a few breaths the next thing I remember isn't for a few hours.
Thankfully, my mom was documenting things unbeknownst to me. I found out days later the start time of my surgery was 12:57 p.m. and I was out by 2:17 p.m.
That's quicker than like three innings are played between the Yankees and Red Sox. I'm impressed.
In the recovery area, I start waking up but I'm confused. I think at one point I asked if the Browns game was on, even though this was a Tuesday. Again, I can't confirm this. Disorientation at my surroundings was an understatement.
Eventually, I'm rolled back up to my room and am starting to get back some semblance of understanding. I see my nurse Anna, who was also excellent. I wanted to know where my mom was. And now I was starting to feel pain.
My mom comes up and I decide I have to pee - BUT I CAN'T GO.
I really can't explain to you the drama this produced at this given moment. I really believed I was never going to be able to urinate again. It was one of those moments I imagine older Cubs fans have when it just hits them that they really may never see the Cubs win the World Series in their lifetime and there's nothing they can do about it.
Eventually, I'm able to go. If I weren't able to go soon, I was reaching a frustration level that may have led me to pull a Chris Perez and delete Twitter just because it would give me some control.
Yes, I know this sounds ridiculous but at the time it was a transcendent moment, like if Cleveland were to win a sports championship (except I couldn't really scream or jump up and down in excitement).
After surgery, I was on a "clears" diet, which meant Jello for me. I hadn't had Jello in such a long time that the initial prospect of this was actually quite appealing.
All the colors - red, green, orange.
So alluring.
Hours - and a few empty Jello containers - later, the enjoyment is wearing off. I'm tired and trying to sleep but still having to go to the bathroom every couple hours because an IV with fluids is hooked up to me.
As the night shift begins, one of my new nurses is named Sundae. All I can eat is Jello. Talk about cruel irony.
Wednesday morning comes around and my new diet is called "GI soft," which means I'm allowed to eat regular foods again.
I feel bad for the guy next to me who hasn't been able to have anything but liquids for like a week. Dick's 89 years old and his wife tells me he was the former vice president of Alcoa, as well as a war veteran.
We chatted about how his wife and he live in Rocky River during the summer then go down to Florida for winters. Their stay at the clinic is now delaying their annual trip.
I sure hope his gall bladder surgery went well considering that he did once survive war.
They were nice people and kept me entertained for awhile.
In my boredom, I checked responses to posts I had made on social media. Probably the funniest surrounded the fact that I had been in Athens for Homecoming weekend and then had to get my appendix out two days later.
"Could homecoming have maybe been the cause?" my one friend asked. Obviously these two major events were mutually exclusive but the idea of them somehow correlating was pretty funny because I'm getting older now and each time you go back to campus that starts to hit you a little bit more. At 24, I'm basically old man status by Athens standards.
Just as my increasing frustration with my oversized gown was reaching a boiling point, Anna told me I would be able to be discharged. I just had to wait to get a ride home.
My friend Phil, who works at the clinic, entertained me for a couple hours and I got to have a good dinner meal. The food at the clinic is actually really good. If you are ever sick and have to stay there, I recommend the rotisserie chicken. The grilled cheese and chicken fingers were solid options too.
Finally, I get the go-ahead to remove that dreaded gown and put on my regular clothes again. I wait a couple more hours for mom to arrive as I read some columns in the Plain Dealer and watch the end of the baseball game on TV (in HD - like I mentioned earlier, this was better selection than the cable package in my own apartment).
Anna left for the end of her shift and told me to say goodbye to my mom for her. The new nurse Jackie finished off my stay, ordering my wheelchair transport and getting me out the door.
Looking back, it could have been a whole lot worse. Luckily, the pain in my side was bad enough early enough that I went in when the appendix was inflamed but not yet ruptured, which I was told was a good thing.
All of the doctors and nurses were exceptionally nice. All of the well-wishes from co-workers, friends and family eased the pre-surgery tensions.
And as unpleasant as going to the hospital is by its very nature, this wasn't all that terrible. The pain afterward now that I'm home recovering - well, that sucks.
Here I am - Connor 2.0, post-appendix. Watch out world.
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