We've had better days!

The minute I think things are going fine in the Nicholson world...things come to a complete halt. March 31st, I went to bed and awoke in the middle of the night thinking my water had broke. Nope, just a sweaty dream. Everything was fine. I went back to sleep and got up a few hours later to go to work feeling just fine. Everything seemed normal. An hour after being at work I started to feel nauseous, but related it to the pregnancy. Then next thing I know I'm running for the bathroom about to throw up. Nothing came except some shakiness and I felt very weak all of a sudden. I decided I better just go home for the day and tomorrow would be better. When I made it home, things got worse. I started feeling extremely bloated and thought perhaps some constipation, thinking still it was related to the pregnancy. I took some Rolaids and Tylenol, but nothing subsided and the night time was much worse. Every time I turned over in bed to find another comfortable position, I would have these intense pains. The next morning Dave said I better call the doctor just to make sure things were okay with the baby.

Once I got to the doctor's office they listened for the baby's heart beat and all was good. She had great heart tones. The doctor examined me and decided just to be on the safe side, she wanted me to go to the Emergency Room. Right away they whisked me up to the Maternity Ward to check out the baby again. No contractions, and again good heart tones. They checked my blood pressure, oxygen levels, and temperature and everything was normal, so they sent me back to the ER. After waiting about 1-2 hours I finally saw the ER doctor. They again check my blood pressure, and oxygen levels and temperature and everything was normal except my temperature. It had spiked to 99.9 degrees. The doctor looked me over, took some blood etc... She came back and said my white blood count was high and she wanted to call a surgeon because she was thinking it may be appendicitis. I thought okay, this is just great. The surgeon came over and asked me if I was 25. I laughed saying, "No, I'm 29." He says 25 weeks gestation. Finally it click that he wasn't asking my age. Makes for a good laugh though later on. He looked me over and thought the same thing the ER doctor thought. Appendicitis. He tells me I have a couple options to choose from, a Cat Scan or straight up to surgery. I figured I work in radiation and had minimal exposure and I didn't want to have unnecessary surgery, so I opted for the CT scan, which showed a 10 mm inflamed appendix. I'm going to surgery. Dave was at a focus market meeting and on his way home when I called him with the news. He made it just before I went into surgery. We kissed each other goodbye and told our I love yous and away I went.

Next time I saw Dave was in the recovery room when a nurse told someone to get him to calm me down because I was panicking from coming out of anesthesia. I guess it worked. Who knew he had that kind of effect on me. That man's got some magical powers.

The next morning the surgeon came into check on me and said he sent some cultures and stains to the lab, but part of my colon was also inflamed as well as some cloudy fluid that looked to be infected surrounding the organs. He pushed 3 doses of antibiotics, which seemed to work over time, but I kept having these intense gas pains in my belly. The nursing staff gave me pain medications, but nothing seemed to work and I needed something a little stronger that wouldn't hurt the baby. That seemed to work for awhile were I could get up and start walking around, but not before a good nap. I had to share a room with someone else who decided to bring her entire family from Mexico to stay all day in the room visiting, so of course I never fell asleep and the nurses finally had to kick them out. By 10:30pm, the neighbor lady was asking if Dave who was still there making sure I fell asleep okay and quiet as a mouse was planning on leaving. I thought, "Lady, you've got some nerve and if I had the energy to come over and rip you a new one, I would."

That night I had a good nights rest and felt refreshed in the morning when Dave came to visit. I had a Jello and broth breakfast and thought I'm ready for some walking. I needed to get my bowels working again so I could go home. Little did I know I would be throwing up on myself a few hours later. One way to make sure your man loves you is if he'll clean up the vomit off your chest. He was the best nurse I've ever had, but this meant another night with the "Mexican Mafia." So I put my earplugs in to tune out the world and awoke with some pain about 5 or 6am the next morning. The nurse fixed me up and I decided I wasn't tired, so I would go for a walk. I came back after one round walking around the surgical floor needing to pee and a fart came with it. I was so proud. I decided let's do round 2. I made it half way and started to feel nauseous. I headed back to my room barely making it to the bathroom and started throwing up again and again. I thought I'm never going to make it home. The nurse had to give me 2 different kinds of anti-nausea medications to stop me from throwing up.

After being in the hospital for 4 days now, I'm really ready to go home and more determined to leave before the neighbor lady did. All I needed was a good ol' fashion poop. We tried prune juice the night before and some walking, but nothing came from it. The surgeon assistant came to visit me this time and I was begging her for something to relieve the gas pains. My surgical site didn't really bother me much at this point. I felt so bloated and nothing was coming out. I was desperate. She ordered some Gas X and a suppository, but the next thing I knew, I was pooping in the potty. I came out of the bathroom with a big grin on my face and told Dave, "I feel like a 2 year old going poopy in the potty all by myself for the first time." I took the medicines just to push things along, so the next thing on the agenda was to eat a little bit of food and keep it down. I was all a success. I was home by 6pm that night just in time to watch the Country Awards at home on my own couch.

This morning we got a phone call from the surgeon saying that instead of appendicitis, it was colitis. The surgery and the pains and hassle of everything could have been avoided, but I guess he was just being too careful because he had 2 lives to worry about. I'm just glad to finally be home and the baby is healthy and Dave can have more peace of mind knowing he doesn't have to visit a hospital room until the baby is born IN JULY.

P.S. Neighbor lady and the "Mexican Mafia" made it home before I did.