It's been exactly one week since I got home from the hospital. The weather is almost exactly the same. A perfect blue sky and gorgeous breeze. I sat in a rocking chair on the front porch and took the deep breaths the nurse told me to take to stimulate healing and drank my hospital sized water. Today I sit at my computer. Window open to let in that same perfect breeze and water now in my normal drinking glass.
A lot has changed in a week. A LOT has changed in two weeks.
Last Wednesday, my day could not have been more normal, even boring to start. I had an electrician over in the morning for a small job. Ate a regular lunch with my son at the table before putting him down for a nap. We played the typical game of "I'm not tired" "Yes, you are" for 20 minutes before he finally fell asleep and once he was asleep I had a fleeting thought of I want to get started on the living room I've been wanting to paint. I had even bought the paint the day before.
But, instead of painting I laid down. I was uncomfortable, almost like I was getting my period, or even getting a bladder infection. I felt yucky and tired. And I napped.
I woke up when N woke up. But, it wasn't good. I was sweaty and in massive pain. There was no position that was tolerable. I could barely stand up straight. I whispered to N that Mommy was sick, that we needed to call Dadddy. That Daddy needed to be home immediately. N is 2. He couldn't help me, and thankfully played as normal. I found my phone. C was on his way. I told him we needed to go to the ER. He was still 20 minutes away. 20 minutes felt like an absolute eternity. I managed to get N to come downstairs. He played while I wrenched in pain and tried not to cry out. I didn't want to scare him. But, I was scared.
When C got home he packed up N and anything else we needed and then packed me up too. I could barely walk to the car. I sat crumpled in a ball in the seat, not talking, still trying not to cry out in pain. When we got to the ER, I walked in the door and immediately said I am going to throw up. They got me a wheelchair and a bucket. I threw up in the bucket and will forever remember the face of the 8 year old with his father watching me hurl. N said, "Mama?" C rubbed my head. They got me a bed right away.
Painkiller, shots, blood draws, scans to be determined it was my gall bladder and it needed to come out.
After 4 days in the hospital and one gallbladder removal I am home. Back where I belong.
I'm debating whether to write more. They saw a "bump" on my kidney while they were scanning. I'm going back to the doctor for more scanning. It could be nothing. It could be something small or it could be a really big deal. I'm trying to stay calm, but it is frighteningly easy for your mind to run away especially when recovery gives me a lot of time to think. The doctor doesn't seem to be in a rush about it which makes me want to take that as a sign that it isn't a big deal. I'm trying to go into next week with a positive attitude and not worry "until there is something to worry about."
For now I'm home. Right where I belong.