It was a typical Saturday night and I was getting ready to go out. While blowdrying my hair I dad this agonizing pain in the lower, right side of my abdomen. The pain only lasted for a couple of minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. I continued to get ready as I reassured myself that the pain was nothing more than a muscle cramp. I finished getting ready and went out to eat. Everything was fine that night. I woke up the next morning and went to church despite the nagging pain in my side. When I arrived home the pain in my side was almost unbearable. It was accompanied a=be a doubling nausea feeling. My body was overcome by heat, yet I felt bizarre chills run down my spine. My mother took my temperature, which was well over one hundred degrees. She persuaded me to take some medecine and get some rest to maybe make me feel better.
I went to bed that Sunday afternoon and did not wake up till the Monday I will never forget.
When I awoke that Monday I was having excruciating pains in my side. The pain was like a blunt knife being repeatedly jabbed deep into my flesh. My mother helped me out of the bed, dressed me in loose clothing,and worriedly carried me to the emergency room. When I arrived at the emergency room I was overcome with fear. All I could hear was unfamaliar voices that seem to clump together. Kids were crying, busy nurses were calling in orders, and the monitor devices were making momotonous, beeping noises. The doctor ran some test and came to the conclusion that I had appendicitis and would need emergency surgery. The nurse immediately began prepping me for surgery. I felt what seemed like hundreds of needles penetrating my flesh as she inserted the IV into my fragile wrist. I had an overwhelming feeling of anxiety rushing through me as I anxiously awaited my outcome.
The scrub nurse came and took me to surgery. Tears streamed down my face as she rolled me rapidly into the operating room. When I arrived into the dreaded room it was extremely cold and sterile. The nurses transferred me from the stretcher to the operating table.I felt a painful chill run down my spine as I lay on the cold, clammy, metal slate. I was surrounded by the eerie light of hallogen bulbs and stainless steel instruments. I felt as lifeless as a cadaver in a scientific laboratory.I couldn't speak or move. I was paralyzed by fear. A strange man walked up to me and introduced himself as the resident nurse anesthetist and said that he would be taking care of me. He began to administer anethisia through my already attached IV and ask me to count backwards from ten. I made it to number nine. During my inanimate sleep the removal of my augemented appendix occurred and was replaced with eight staples and an eternal scar.
When I awoke I was in a room filled with pungent flowers and bright, colored ballons with the inspiring message, "Get Well Soon." I felt emotionally drained and phisically weak from the surgery. My mind was groggy and could not distinguish if what had just happened was a bad dream or reality. I can relate to the old cliche' about "Manic Mondays", and I will never forget mine.