It was May 25, 2002, and I was not feeling all that well. I thought I was getting sick. I worked at Nordstrom’s and worked a shift on Saturday, but I was exhausted, sweaty, and had stomach pain. On Sunday, I went to work, but I could hardly move my stomach pain way too much, so I left work early. Once at home, I slept all afternoon and into the night. I took Daisy out for an evening walk and was doubled over in pain, so it was a quick do-your-business walk. Back home, I called Mom and told her I was not feeling well; she asked when I last ate, and I told her Saturday morning and nothing since. She said to try some soup and crackers. I made some chicken noodle soup, had some, and came right back up—crackers, right back up. I needed to keep something down, so I got some water and again back up. This goes on for the entire night, sleeping for 30 minutes, curling up in a ball, having hot and cold spells, and nothing staying down. I called Mom in the morning, and she said you need to see a doctor. I called in sick and waited for my doctor’s office to open at 9:00 a.m.

My doctor at the time was this very kind 70-year-old man who still ran his clinic from a little office down the street from the apartment. The office had magazines like Highlights and Wood paneling, and he was starting to learn how to use a computer, but he still wrote everything by hand. I walked in, listened to my symptoms, took my temperature, which was 106, and said, “You have appendicitis now. I am not sure without running some tests, but you do.” I cannot treat you here; you must go to the hospital. I asked if I needed to make an appointment (I had never been to a hospital while on my own before), and he said no, the ER, and go now. My doctor asked what insurance I had. I explained that my insurance would not start until August, so he directed me to a county hospital up north and told me to go straight there.

I had a cell phone, so I was able to call Mom along the way and gave her an update. I let her know I would call her later. I made it to the County Hospital by 12:00 p.m., walked into a packed ER waiting room, checked in at the nurses’ station, and handed her a note from my doctor. She looked at me and said you don’t look like you are in pain, I said I am trying to look strong in front of these people. She laughed and told me to wait. I found a seat and looked around the room; about 50 people were waiting. I thought I was going to be there forever.

The nurse called me back five minutes later, put me in a wheelchair, and got me to a room. The nurses took my vitals, hooked me up to machines, and asked me what happened, so I shared my story. The nurse said it sounded like it’s your appendix. The doctors arrived, I shared my story and said does this hurt (pressing down on the right side of my stomach, Yes! The doctor said I needed to be admitted to the ER immediately and started me on an I.V. A surgeon came over next and told me I had acute appendicitis and they needed to operate now.

I waited in the ER for a few hours, getting fluid and sleeping for the first time in 24 hours; I was genuinely exhausted. Then the nurses came in, helped me change, and I was sent to recovery, where I was prepped for my surgery. They asked me various times what surgery I was going to have and explained the surgery. I was there for less than an hour before they moved me into the operating room. The last thing I remember was laying on the table, and they gave me oxygen as they were strapping me in. They asked me to count backward from 10; I started at 10, 9, and was out.

I woke up with a nurse talking to me in the recovery room. I remember trying to open my eyes, but I could not focus, so I closed them and listened to the surgeon telling me the appendix was inflamed and infected and was successfully removed.

I made it to my room around 8:00 p.m. and felt good, so I read a bit and thought, “This was a piece of cake!” Then it hit me, my Mom has no idea what just happened, I could not remember Mom’s number so I called my roommate Alex and asked him to call my Mom and loop her in. Mom called and checked on me and told me should would be down in a few days to help me recover. As the night went on, the nurses came in constantly to check on various vitals as the drugs started to wear off.

The following day, which was Tuesday, I was in a lot of pain; even though I had my I.V. hooked up with medicine, my stomach and side were killing me. The surgeon wanted it to heal naturally, so he left it open, which meant the nurses had to come in and pack the incision with new saline and gauze all day long. At lunch they wanted me to start walking but I could barely sit up, let alone walk, then they said the doctor wants you to start solid food for dinner, and tonight we have ribs. I said there is no way, after all I my last meal was on Saturday, and I had zero appetite.

In the afternoon, in walks, Mom! I thought you were waiting until I was released to come down; Mom said there was no way I could sit at home knowing you were alone here, so she drove down from Concord and found a hotel down the street. With her encouragement, I was able to start with crackers, and by Saturday, I could handle solid food.

The next few days were pure pain! I had not showered since Sunday morning, and my hair was so stinky that I could not stand it anymore, so Mom helped me patch up the wound so I could at least shower. That simple foot wore me out for the rest of the day.

I was released on Saturday, and after five days of being in the hospital, I was ready to head home. My energy level was still very low, and I was in constant pain; without Mom being there, I don’t know what I would have done. I had to change out the bloody gauze in my won’t multiple times a day, and I could not do it on my own, so Mom was there. I needed help stabilizing myself so I could walk around; Mom was there. I desperately needed home-cooked meals, and Mom was there. Everything wore me out. I could last a few hours before I needed to rest, but with Mom’s love and pushing, I slowly started to get better and rebounded quickly. The photo is of me a few days after being home and finally getting to take a shower; I was also in need of a haircut hehe

A few months later, I received a bill from the hospital for over $10,000. After a few “ you need to pay now” notices, I drove to the hospital to make payment arrangements before it went to collections. I went to the billing department, and they told me it had already been sent to collections. They gave me the number, and I called them immediately. They asked What’s your last name? Could not find it. What is your social security number? Could not find it. And then came the most beautiful words anyone living from check to check could hear, “We don’t have a collections file on you.” I checked back again with the hospital, and they had nothing. I don’t know what happened, but it never hit my credit report, nor did I ever receive any more notices. Boy, was I lucky.