Unfortunately, while we were on the boat, I started to have a burning, aching pain in my upper stomach and back. I just thought I must be getting seasick or something but it progressively got worse. That night, I went back and forth between laying on the bathroom floor and pathetically crying/moaning/groaning and throwing up over and over. The next day, the pain had changed and dropped down low in my belly. It hurt to walk and felt like a tugging, ripping feeling. Of course, my husband started asking if I was pregnant and I said there was no way I would have such severe symptoms at 3DPO.
So I sat around all day, trying not to move a lot. But around 5:30, knowing I had to work a 12-hour shift the next day at work, I looked at my husband and asked him to take me to Urgent Care. I thought, well, maybe they can give me some good meds to get me through the work day.
Not quite. The pretty little doctor listened to my symptoms and got this big, doe-like eyes and said “I am very worried about you. You need to go to the ER right now.”
Oh, and she took a pregnancy test. Negative. (Obviously, just 3 days post ovulation!)
So my husband and I debated whether I really needed to go to the ER. I mean, seriously? It was just a stomach ache! But, as he pointed out, when a doctor tells you to go “quickly” to the Emergency Room, you probably shouldn’t argue.
Once at the ER, they through out the words Ectopic Pregnancy, Gall Stones, Appendicitis, and a lot of other scary words. They did another pregnancy test (negative – I kept telling them that there was no way it would show up on a urine test at just 3 days post O, but I guess they didn’t trust my charting abilities! – Ha!) and then did a CT to check my appendix.
In walks the Doctor.
Doctor: “Ok, well, it looks like we’re going to take your appendix out tonight. The surgeon should be here shortly and you should be in surgery in just under 30 mins.”
Me:
One thing you should know about me: I am a fairly healthy (and lucky) person. I have never had any medical problems, don’t routinely have to go to the doctor, and have never, ever had any kind of surgery. Not even dental surgery. As a result, I am DEATHLY afraid of medical procedures, especially surgery. So I started stammering about how couldn’t it “just be a stomach virus?” and then started having a minor panic attack in the ER.
Long story short….they did the surgery. Everything went fine. It was much, much easier than I expected (the whole thing was done laproscopically) and they sent me home the next morning.
BUT the unfortunate, tragic part of this whole ordeal is that it happened in my very first cycle of TTC. Remember how close and connected I had been feeling with my husband? We had just had a wonderful feeling knowing I “could be pregnant” and had felt so excited and happy. Now I feel like, no way could implantation happen after a surgery and anesthesia, and even worse, if it did actually happen, what would it do to the baby?? Ugh. So, aside from the surgery and recovery, I also feel a little bit like a balloon with the air let out of it. Like I was so happy and excited and now just…deflated.
It’s silly I know, because it’s just the very first month. And it’s not like *knock on every type of wood surface imaginable* this type of thing will happen every cycle. It’s just a fluke occurrence. But that doesn’t make me feel good about it.
Oh and how are my husband and I doing? He’s exhausted from taking care of me and is trying to catch up on lost time at work. The rosy feeling seems to have left the building for the day. Poor guy.
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Post Script: On a funny note, everyone (doctors, nurses, surgeons, etc) kept asking me when The First Day of My Last Cycle was. And, as I mentioned in my previous post, it was the first time in my life I was able to easily answer that question without staring blankly and showing how little attention I pay to my body. Ha.
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