Today began with intense pain. My right shoulder throbbed and my stomach ached so bad that I nearly fell out of bed at 3am trying to alleviate the pain. Over the course of the next four hours I rolled around and moaned. Then my alarm clock went off. By this time the pain had settled in my lower right abdomen. And it felt a lot like labor and a little bit like gas. So I called Officer Hubs, who was on duty and told him that I couldn’t walk. He told me to call in sick to work, which I did, and then he came to take the baby to daycare. When he got back and found me still in bed moaning, he insisted that we go to the emergency department. I dragged my feet, but in the end I let him take me. Did I mention that I was in labor for 27 hours on a Ptocin drip before I got an epidural? So I do at least have a reasonable knowledge of the ouchies and this was a 10 on my pain tolerance scale.
We were admitted very quickly, but had to wait f.o.r.e.v.e.r. Every time a health care person came into our room, they stopped with a deer in the headlights look and stared at me wide eyed. At one point a security guard stopped by and asked Hubs why he hadn’t signed in at the security desk. Each time Hubs had to explain that I was his wife and not under arrest. Something about being in the emergency department with a cop just gives people the wrong idea. Or it could have been my bedhead and lack of make-up. I must admit I did kind of look like a dangerous criminal.
In case you’re wondering, I did not have appendicitis or an ectopic pregnancy. After three hours of torture, including a GI cocktail (which sounds a lot yummier than it tastes) the final diagnosis was “abdominal pain.” Seriously. That’s what they put on my discharge papers. The doctor called it gastric spasms and acid reflux, but Hubs likes to say it was just “bad gas.” Sigh.