i should have known the week would go badly when we got home from our relaxing anniversary weekend to sick kids. ethan had fever and was generally pissy and harley woke up in the middle of the night and puked all over me. the worst part was i never saw it coming so i couldn’t move out of the way in time. without getting too graphic let’s just agree that sour, chunky, regurgitated spaghetti feels pretty gross between your toes–and smells bad too. it’s a good thing my gag reflexes are made of steel. tommy better hope nothing ever happens to me because who in the world would clean up vomit? he might have to resort to hiring one of those disaster crews who cleans up after a catastrophic event. yes, vomit would fit in that category to tommy. he’s not good with puke, diarrhea, or snot. that’s where i come in.
luckily e’s fever broke and he got less pissy and harley only vomited the one time. i scored it a victory since i was sure we were all going to get the stomach virus. monday came and went and everyone seemed to be on the mend, so life was manageable–well, as manageable as life gets with four kids and a husband who was going out of town.
tuesday afternoon, i began getting pains in my lower left side that i can only describe as ‘labor pains.’ i did some math on my calculator and figured out that i couldn’t be in labor since a. i wasn’t pregnant, b. if i was pregnant, i would have a lot of splainin to do, and c. i had the smallest pregnant belly in the history of pregnant bellies and on top of that had just had my period. too much information? so sorry. you know we do that here. we talk about periods and vaginas and the mystery of the penis, and so on. it’s a teaching program. and i’m trying to do my part for the public. you’re welcome.
anyhoo, i ignored the pain because well, frankly, i didn’t have time for such nonsense. i popped 4 advil and tried going about my day. later in the evening, the pain became more intense and more frequent. i would get a stabbing right hook to my left ovary that would last for 1 minute or so and then go away. the period between each “contraction” would be euphoric. when the pain would fire i would try and breathe through it and then relax when it would go away. i swear to god had i not known any better i would have thought i was in labor–about to have a baby. i woke up during the night and had to fight back tears. i gulped down 4 more advil and tried to sleep. tommy left at 6 the next morning for louisville and i didn’t want to tell him what was going on with me because i figured it would go away. i kept thinking maybe i had some bad chinese food–even though it had been WEEKS since i’d eaten any. after i took the kids to school the pain was excruciating and the space between each “contraction” was getting smaller. i called my gynecologist who informed me that their ultrasound tech was out that day and i should go to the emergency room. oy vey. the er. what a fucking nightmare. i called my mom and asked her to drive me there. we arrived 45 minutes later and walked in the double doors to find a sea of “sick” people. i gave my name, was sent to triage and evaluated. i tried to convey to the nurse inspecting me that i was dying. she nodded her head (i guess it wasn’t the first time she’d heard that today) and pointed to a row of green chairs and said, “it will be awhile.”
it didn’t take long to figure out that the green chairs were for the losers. there was one woman moaning–she got taken back almost immediately. damn. why didn’t i think of that. i thought about moaning myself, but a dude sitting across from me (who was wearing the biggest diamond stud earrings i’d ever seen) started moaning and was taken away next. he totally stole my idea. it wasn’t fair. i wanted to be taken away. i was in pain. just because i wasn’t vocal about it didn’t mean i wasn’t just as pitiful. i thought quickly about falling down on the ground and making my body shake–you know, like i was convulsing or something, but i was afraid that my acting would be too convincing and i would be whisked off to surgery and have parts removed. maybe even parts that i wanted to keep but i wouldn’t be able to do anything since i’d started this whole mess by throwing myself down on the ground and acting crazy, so i decided against it. the couple next to me had their little boy with them and apparently he was the patient. my first thought was, why didn’t they take him to the children’s hospital across the street? why bring him here to this scary, nasty, crowded place? just then it was clear. i knew what i had to do. i stood up (and then almost fell to my knees when the pain struck again), called my mom who had conveniently dropped me off at the door, told her to turn around and pick me up, ripped the plastic bracelets off my wrists (i wasn’t sure if what i was doing was against the law or not–i mean i was technically in the system) and waited outside for my mom to get me while trying not to look suspicious. every few minutes i would have to put my hands on my knees to keep from falling to the ground in pain.
finally, she pulled in the emergency parking lot and picked me up. i phoned my doctor again (who if i haven’t mentioned before is a total rock star) and she sent me to get an ultrasound at a less crowded/depressing place. the sonogramologist studied my insides and made lots of ooh, ah, yep that’s a doozy kind of sounds and i became worried that something was wrong with me. i left after 30 minutes, drove home, and was met at the door by patricia (my nanny) who said, “the doctor just called and wants you to come to her office right away.”
oh my god. this was it. i was officially dying. i called my sister in law and asked her to go with me. i didn’t want to get bad news by myself. i’ve always felt it best to get other people involved in your misery. poor tommy. i didn’t have the heart to call him and tell him he’d have to call in the catastrophe squad the next time ethan had diarrhea. he’d learn that soon enough when i hired that plane to write “i won’t be around to smell your farts anymore, but hey that sure was fun, love shauna” in white smoke above our house. all the way to the doctor’s office i apologized to the universe for being a bitch. all of the sudden i was sorry. i was sorry for being mean to people i didn’t know, i was sorry that i’d been so hard on tommy (even though he never knew it since i always did it behind his back–or on here), i was sorry that i didn’t eat all the chocolate cupcakes or the rest of the key lime pie that was in the fridge. what did calories mean now–with me dying and all. i just hoped i would go fast. but the universe, she’s one cruel bitch. maybe she would drag it out. one fingernail at a time–or something dramatic like that.
we pulled in the parking lot where i was to meet my fate. i took a deep breath and walked inside. i was called back shortly after that and i grabbed my sister in law by the hand and said, “c’mon. i can’t do this alone.”
my doctor came in the room with my chart and said, “your sonogram looked perfectly normal.”
huh?
i was stunned. “are you sure?”
she read over the report. “no significant findings,” she read.
i was baffled. and a little disappointed. “but what about all the oohs and ahs and oh my god sounds that the sonogramologist made? and why did you want to see me ‘immediately?’”
my doctor put her hand on my knee and said, “i wanted you to come because you never call me unless something is wrong. so i need to figure out what is going on with you.”
just then the pain stabbed me in my left ovary.
“there. right there,” i screamed. “that’s where it hurts.”
she examined me–thoroughly–i might add–with metal tools and gels and cotton covered spatulas.
when she finished she said, “you have two options. and neither of them are good. and both require surgery.”
“surgery? when?”
“today.”
i was speechless. and then the pain struck. “yow. ok. i give.”
she started writing in my chart, describing what she thought was going on with me (torsion) and then spouted off instructions. “i’ll meet you at the hospital in a little while. go on over and get checked in. i’ll tell them to start an iv and give you something for the pain.”
now she was speaking my language.
as i hobbled back to my sister in law’s car, i was stunned. surgery? in a little while? wow. this was happening so fast. and then i started panicking. who would take care of my kids? who would take e-man to gymnastics? who would pick up the big girls–and get them to soccer practice? oh my god, what would they eat for dinner? nothing had been planned. this was a monkey wrench in my day and i was not sure what to do. how can the family possibly function without the glue (the glue is me in case you’re wondering)?
thank god was sister in law was driving because i might have ended up wrapped around a tree. my brain was working overtime and i was feeling overwhelmed–and was apparently in labor with a twisted ovary. we both got on our cell phones and made arrangements for the kids. then i figured it was probably best that i call tommy and tell him the news. was it too late to hire a plane to write in the sky over louisville? something light like “hey tommy, hope your meeting is going great, by the way, i’m having surgery in an hour.” what do you think? a little too impersonal? maybe i should call him myself. he might need to hear it from the horse herself.
she pulled up to the hospital and dropped me off. suddenly i was scared. i was going to have surgery and i was alone.
after 30 minutes of filling out paper work at the same time trying to explain to edna, the hundred year old deaf woman who typed with one finger, that i was in excruciating pain and could we do this later, i was in the system and now on my way to the surgery floor. i was poked, prodded, and asked questions like, do i do recreational drugs for recreation or am i an addict? did i engage in dangerous activities like sky diving or driving without my seat belt? how many sexual partners was i presently engaged with and did my husband know?
my head was spinning. i just wanted this whole thing to end. and i really wanted a chocolate cupcake in the worst way.
finally, a familiar face popped her head in the room. she’s a friend of mine and a crna at the hospital. i almost jumped in her arms when i saw her. i said, “how’d you know i was here?” and she told me that she saw my name on the board. she introduced me to the crna that would be handling “my case” (all the sudden i felt very important–i was “a case”–how cool was that?) and then i was like the most popular girl in the hospital. when they wheeled me up to surgery, 7 or 8 nurses surrounded my bed and stood over me, staring at me. all of them had huge smiles on their faces and i was like, ‘what gives?’ my friend said, “i told them how funny you are.”
i smiled and said, “oh.” and then laughter ensued. man, i AM funny.
and then i felt obligated to entertain them. it’s like they were waiting for some hilarious epitaphs to fly out of my mouth. i certainly didn’t want to disappoint them. so i tried to focus but the room began to spin. one of them put a hair net on me then and i tried to form words, but all i could do was babble like a one year old. my tongue was thick and i felt sleepy then and…
i woke up to find people standing over me. i remember asking, “can i see my mangled ovary? is it a boy or a girl? does it look like tommy or my side of the family?”
there was laughter. apparently when i’m on drugs i’m hilarious. i closed my eyes again and when i woke up i was in a room. a depressing, puddy colored room. it appeared i was staying in the hospital. before the surgery my doctor had said that if all went well i’d get to go home a few hours after, but by the looks of things, it hadn’t gone well. i tried placing my hands on my belly, but they were heavy and uncooperative. i was sore and i was tired and i was confused. i closed my eyes again and the next time i woke up monika was standing over me. i was able to get out the words this time. “what happened? am i going home?” she nodded her head and said, “it wasn’t what the doctor thought it was. you got to keep your ovary. she’s going to run some more tests so you’re not going home.”
great.
and then, “what about my kids?”
“they’re fine. everyone is taken care of. don’t worry.”
and so i didn’t. i closed my eyes again and cursed the blasted universe. why couldn’t this be easy? you know, cut and dry. bum ovary? yank it out and be done with it. but no. nothing was ever easy with me. it’s always vague and requires investigative coverage.
damn those chocolatey cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter. what i wouldn’t give for 3 or 4 of them now.
~stay tuned for part 2 of the story tomorrow~
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