Sorry for the lengthiness, but I need to get this story out in full….
They took me to the first room and asked me the same questions as at my first appointment of the day. I tried to explain my situation yet again. They began taking blood samples and sticking me all over the place with needles and tubes. I have a huge fear of needles, blood, and hospitals. So, as you can imagine it was a good time. The pain in my stomach was still steadily increasing. People kept taking turns touching my super sensitive belly in different places. Yes, each time it did hurt. I began crying out in pain. I couldn’t walk anymore. They wheeled me into another room and took another ultrasound. It was the most painful experience of my life just to switch beds. The whole time he rubbed my stomach I was wincing in pain. Terrible.
After ultrasound number two, I kept demanding to see Micheline (because apparently she was in the lobby) and asking about what was going to happen/ if I was actually going to get operated on tonight. People kept rushing in and out of my room, but no one could give me answers. They kept evading my questions and saying someone else would help me. I was frustrated, confused, and scared. I felt utterly alone and was left in this state for what seemed like forever.
Suddenly, the surgeon arrived. Apparently they were going to operate tonight. She knew some English but it was super hard for us to communicate, so finally they let Micheline come inside. I started crying. I was so happy to finally have someone by my side – someone who could communicate with me and my doctors. Someone who could make sure I was at a good hospital, being well taken care of, and just be there for me. I have never appreciated having friends and family members more than that night. In France, I don’t have friends with cars who can just pop over to help me out. I was alone with no means to communicate and no one to help me out. All I can say is thank God for Micheline. She literally has been my lifeline throughout this whole process.
So, I went into the operation room feeling scared for my first operation but slightly safer after talking to Micheline. It was like one of those scary medical scenes in a movie. This movie, unlike the one in Provence, was a horror. As I write this it still seems surreal. I keep envisioning being rolled into the operation room with bright lights on the ceiling, people waiting in blue suits with gloves, hairnets – my reality included the whole shebang. The last thing I remember is the anesthesiologist getting a phone call as she put me to sleep and two of her coworkers commenting about how inappropriate it was to talk on the phone as she put me asleep. Je suis d’accord aka I totally agreed! Not the greatest way to be put under!
The next thing I remember is being in another room after the operation and being super drugged up. I was connected to a billion different machines and was in a sort of haze of understanding – alternating between sleep and consciousness. I think at some point I may have called my parents? I remember seeing Micheline, Emma, Elita, my host mom, and my host mom’s sister and being able to partially have conversations. I survived. Score.
Apparently, the operation was bigger than they thought. They had to take out part of my large intestine and small intestine because my appendix was so infected. Rut ro.
I remember the first night I was connected to an IV and a blood pressure/ heart rate machine to keep track of my vitals. They forced me to sleep with this mask on that pumped a whole bunch of morphine directly in my mouth. It had the most disgusting taste, dehydrated the heck out of my face, and was just plain uncomfortable! The first couple days were a real struggle. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t pour myself a glass of water. I couldn’t wash myself. I couldn’t pee (I was connected to a little baggy, so pleasant) I couldn’t lift myself at all. I had no appetite and struggled to get down the broth, yogurt, and apple sauce they served me.
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