Organ Harvesting

When I got home from dinner with DGII last Tuesday I wasn't feeling so great. My new dating schedule has me drinking 4-5 nights a week, so naturally when the right side of abdomen felt like I was kicked by a mule I assumed the worst: sirrhosis of the liver.

I was on the road for work Wednesday, main-lining coffee and eating rich foods, so when I still didn't feel great that night I didn't think much of it. I wasn't in any real pain, there was just a dull, throbbing, pressure in my belly like I was bloated.

However, I woke Thursday morning to an intense shooting pain under my right lower ribs. A quick consultation with WebMD changed my self-diagnosis from liver disease to kidney stones. I was supposed to fly to South America Sunday night for work so I decided to deviate from my normal "no doctor" policy and scheduled an appointment to get the problem checked out before I got on a plane for ten hours.

As expected the trip to my doctor was a complete waste of time. After hours in the waiting room and a five minute exam he sent me for a CAT scan, which because of health care red-tape could not be scheduled until Friday morning. In the meantime I was treated to two giant containers of barium sulfate, which if you haven't had the pleasure, looks, smells, and probably tastes like lead-based paint. Delicious. After the scan I grabbed lunch then headed home to await the call from the doctor with the results.

At 3:30 my doctor called and said my kidneys looked clear but my appendix was enlarged. I was no longer in pain and he surmised I was likely in the clear, but that it would be prudent to have a surgeon take a look at the scans and clear me for travel. Being late in the afternoon on a Friday my doctor said the only place I could likely see a surgeon was the ER. I asked him if he thought this was absolutely necessary and he said he "strongly encouraged it". Given the length of my flight and the medical care available in southern Chile I opted to go to the ER for a quick look.

I pulled into the hospital and parked in the visitor's lot thinking that I would be in and out. I signed in at the front desk and explained that I needed a surgeon to review my scans and clear me for a flight. Within twenty minutes I was half naked and a nurse was inserting a rather large needle into my arm to start an IV drip. I kept saying "No, this really isn't necessary, I just need the doc to take a look at my scans". The nurses all just nodded and kept on swabbing and poking.

Finally a doctor introduced herself and asked me why I was there. I told her the story and she gave me an exam. She said that since I wasn't in any pain I would likely be cleared to fly and sent home, but that she wanted the surgeon and radiologist to look me over first. A short while later another doctor examined me then walked off with my scans. I was hooked up to an IV and was only wearing a johnny coat, so I just sat there and read the book I had brought along. A nurse darted in and out of my room so I flirted with her for a while until she asked me when my last bowel movement was, which pretty much killed any connection we had established. I may use that next time I'm in a bar and want to get away from a girl.

Thirty minutes passed before Nurse Bowel Movement returned and started hooking up new bags to my IV drip and asked if I wanted to call anyone. I said "No, why?" and she said "To let them know about your surgery." I said "What surgery, no one told me about any surgery", and she said "You have an acute appendicitis, they are going to remove it. They called the PA and anaesthesiologist, they should be here shortly"...I said "Sweet".

Now they put me on a gurney and rolled me to an elevator. We went up a floor or two and when the door opened we were greeted by four women who started hammering me with questions. "Do you smoke, do you do cocaine, do you smoke marijuana, have you ever had abdominal surgery before, do you have a living will, how did you get to the hospital, are you allergic to any medications, who would you like called in the event of an emergency..." The list went on and I was starting to get nervous. I was still in my johnny coat but I had all my clothes and my cell phone in a plastic bag on my lap, so I went through the bag and pulled out my phone. I quickly called my parents to let them know what I was going on. I didn't tell them earlier in the week about my abdominal pains because I didn't want to get them nervous, so naturally they were pretty shocked to learn I was being wheeled into the ER at that very moment. I finally said "OK, Mom, I gotta go, they want to put me under now..." and hung up. I later got a good yelling at for that.

The last step was when a security guard come up to me and said "I'm here to inventory your belongings". The guy counted my cash, made note of my credit cards, wrote down the model number of my cell phone, then made me sign two inventory sheets. I said "This is kind of like jail" but no one found that funny. He was just about to walk away and the nurse said "You forgot his watch". Anyone who knows me knows I don't take my watch off for anything except to put on another watch. I said "I'm not taking it off". She said I couldn't go into surgery with it on. Reluctantly, I took off my Rolex and handed it to a complete stranger. This went against every instinct I had. I signed off on the watch and the guard promptly dropped it on the floor. I said "Oh, yeah, that's great for it. The owner's manually actually says to drop it on the floor once a month. Thanks." and with that the guard walked off. I came to terms with the fact that I would probably never see the watch again. I probably should have been more concerned with my appendix than my watch, but it took my mind off the fact that I was about to gutted like a pig.

I don't remember much between the watch hitting the floor and waking up in a room late that night. My first thought when my eyes opened was that I felt like I had been in a fight. My stomach, throat and groin were killing me. I later learned that I had been intubated to keep from choking and a catheter was inserted to drain my bladder. So I was wrong, I hadn't been in a fight, I had been raped. Thanks, hospital.

Since the surgery I have been splayed out on my couch watching movies and reading. I can move around a little, but I feel like an octogenarian. I walk hunched over, can only wear sweatpants and loose t-shirts, I keep forgettting what day it is, and I haven't really left the house since Saturday.