For the past year or so, every few months, Jeff has been having these terrible "gas attacks" that would render him useless for 6-8 hours at a time. We'd pump him full of Gas-X and any other type of stomach soother and wait it out, Jeff curled up on the couch or in bed, trying to sleep it off.
One attack lasted a pretty long time...it might have been one of the first ones...and included me driving to Wal Mart at 3am to clean out their supply of everything claiming to cure any type of stomach ache. Milk of Magnesia (or MOM as we call it around here), Gas-X Ultra, Tums, AlkaSeltzer, Pepto...you name it, it was in the basket in my freakishly late run to WalMart.
Over the months, Jeff decided that Gas-X worked the best, so that's what we stuck to. As the episodes continued, I'd frequently ask if we should go to the doctor. That was met with much resistance, as how embarrassing would it be to go to the doctor for gas! My thoughts were, maybe there's like a Gas-X ultra-ultra-ultra we could get prescribed or something! We would always think about what he'd eaten the meals before the attacks and could usually trace it back to some kind of sausage (no, we don't have sausage a lot, I don't know where that decision actually came from) so he did his best to avoid sausage. Good enough.
Now, let me take you back to last Monday, a week from today.
Monday afternoon, Jeff's stomach started to hurt. I remember him sitting on the couch, saying that he thinks his stomach is starting to hurt...like the episode kind of hurt. I rushed to the bathroom and dug into our stash of elixirs and popped him a pill, thinking this would surely do it, we'd gotten it so early!
Um, not so much. Jeff went to bed early Monday night with a stomach ache, thinking he could sleep it off, as he'd done before. Well, 2:30 am rolls around and Jeff gets up for work. Or maybe I should say, writhed in pain while getting out of bed for work, and headed to the bathroom to get ready like he always does.
Now, let me introduce Vincent the Wonder Dog. Vincent pretty much thinks he rules the house. Does what he wants, when he wants, and doesn't really care if he'll get in trouble about it. Each morning when Jeff gets up, he closes the bedroom door so his bathroom light doesn't shine in my eye while he's getting ready. Frequently, Vincent bumps the door open, allowing the searing bathroom light into my sleepy slumber (much like the time I had a sleepover with a friend where she woke up before me and decided to shine a flashlight in my eyes in order to wake me up and I dreamed I was looking directly into the sun) and gets in trouble for it. Well, Vincent usually gets in trouble, but this time he was like Lassie. Knew there was a problem, and in his lazy attempt to get to his doggie bed in the bedroom, woke me up so I could check on Jeff...who was now writhing in pain on the bathroom floor, white as a sheet, and clammy.
Should we go to the doctor? No, gotta get ready for work. Ok. I patted his back over the toilet, just like any good wife would, got him some crackers and water and sent him on his not-so-merry way.
Jeff came home from work at around 9:30am, still in extreme pain, and headed to the bedroom to take a nap. He got up around noon, still doubled over in pain, and it was then that I decided we were going to Care Now. No questions, I'm web-checking you in, calling your mother to watch Jack, and we're going.
The surprisingly adept doctor at Care Now mashed around on his stomach and told us he suspected Jeff had appendicitis. But what about the gas? Well, apparently the two are frequently confused...appendicitis and gas. Who knew? Can I get a refund for our 90 year supply of our Gas-X?
Down to the hospital we went. They put in an IV (which I watched them put in and literally almost passed out...like, I was looking for a place to lay down...and if my only choice hadn't been an ER floor, might have gone ahead and done it) drugged Jeff up, gave him a CT scan, determined it was appendicitis, which meant surgery that night!
It was a whirlwind of a day that ended up with Jeff in surgery at midnight and our first night spent away from Jack. I was picturing a much more romantic way to spend our first night away from Jack...not with Jeff hooked up to an IV and me sleeping in a torture device style "recliner" at his bedside. But thank goodness for grandmas who will drop everything to take care of their beloved grandson and leave the refrigerator full of food, and the laundry done and folded! We're so blessed.
Jeff's doing great now, laid low for a few days, and is back at work this morning. Since his appendix hadn't burst and wasn't overly inflamed, they were able to take it out with a laparoscopic surgery, meaning less intrusive, and quicker recovery. He took the bandages off of his scars on Friday and although I almost passed out while watching (why do I watch? Don't I remember being 2 breaths from passing out when I watched them put his IV in?) they look good, and he's well on his way to a full recovery.
I'll leave you with Jeff's facebook post right before he went into surgery:
What a beautiful night to have my appendix removed. See ya appendix, I hardly knew ya..except when you crippled me with pain.
