Sometimes CTRL+Z is not my friend. I meant to undo a small change and ended up erasing the entire first draft of this post.
I came home yesterday from work after a productive day, wishing nothing more than a shower, a bite of dinner, and an early bedtime. I was greeted by a very polite Middlest, requesting that I inspect my kid's lower back for bruising and/or a difference in texture between the sides at kidney level. Which I found.
I politely requested time to process the inevitability of an ER trip while the oven heated for pizzas, and more time while the pizzas baked. I was still processing when the pizzas came out, so I put Middlest's on a plate and took it back to my kid's room. I ate mine here at the computer desk, playing solitaire and trying to get a grip.
I had started a load of laundry before dinner prep (such as it was), so I fed the dryer and the dishwasher, then sluiced off in the shower to rid myself of any remaining negativity. Middlest packed snacks for us and bottles of water. I gathered what I thought would be enough yarn to get me through the night. By 8:00pm, we were on the road to the local ER which had cared for Beloved before he passed, Fourthborn on Black and Blue Friday year before last, and me when I drove myself there about three years ago because of a symptom that scared me a little. No more Parkland for us after the frustrating experience with their billing office last October.
The first CT scan confirmed a kidney stone that was still bouncing around in the kidney, unwilling or unready to come out and play. And a probable pocket of air in the abdomen that shouldn't have been there. So they did another CT with contrast, which confirmed the anomaly but didn't show any perforation(s). And they decided to admit Middlest for observation and possible exploratory surgery. At which time I asked what I should do, and everybody told me to go home and go to bed.
Since I'd now been up for 22 hours, I did not argue. I'd taken my usual evening meds at 10:00, except for the muscle relaxer, and I took that when I got home and slept through my 6:00am alarm for morning meds, waking an hour later. (Sleeping through the alarm is possible because I awaken to classical music, not heart-stopping electronic screaming.) Took my meds, checked the phone for messages, turned on the ringer, and went back to bed for another three hours.
I had run out of contrast yarns for the Fair Isle sleeves on the doll sweater while at the ER. I guesstimated how many stitches I'd need for the sweater body in plain knitting, figuring that if I'd guessed wrong, one of our dolls would be getting a monochromatic scarf in Doctor Who proportions. Before heading back to the ER this morning (a room hadn't opened up overnight, so Middlest was still in the isolation room), I wrapped the knitting around Avery and discovered that it was going to be a scarf and not a sweater body.
When I got to the hospital, I learned that the surgeon and the floor doctor had been wrangling decorously for two hours regarding the necessity of surgery, the surgeon wanting to keep his knife in his pocket rather than split Middlest from sternum to pelvis (neither Middlest nor I had envisioned major surgery with the prevalence of laparoscopic surgery nowadays), and the floor doctor wanting to leave nothing to chance.
I'd like to buy that surgeon a cheeseburger. Especially since Middlest related in a quiet moment that the surgeon had said my kid would have a zipper-like scar down the mid-line if the wound healed. If. Not a prospect that either of us enjoys contemplating.
We are home with prescriptions for pain relief and two antibiotics, as the lab tests revealed blood in the urine, indicating that while one stone (that they saw) is still waiting to pounce, another one passed. The home teachers have come and given each of us a priesthood blessing. Middlest is snoring quietly in the middle bedroom. I have had a four hour nap and am half an hour overdue for my evening meds. My back is still tight but not currently howling at me. Since I did not post last night, I haven't shared that I am getting a referral to physical therapy.
I have two or three weeks' worth of medical receipts that I need to upload for reimbursement, and tonight is not going to be the night for that. I'm about ready to go back to bed, and I'm looking forward to going to work tomorrow (and cramming two days' worth of work into one) to prepare for being off three days next week in celebration of my birthday.
Feeling blearily thankful for the prayers and positive thoughts offered up by our friends and family over the past 24 hours. Over and out.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!