Appendicitis, Kidney Stones, and Gang Fights

This was supposed to be an Alex-and-Mommy week. We had all sorts of fun plans: Toddler Time at the library, picnic at the park, dog walks, etc. We made it through one morning of our Alex-and-Mommy week before things fell apart. At least it was a fun morning though, right?

Since our fun-filled Tuesday morning, Alexa has been left to wake up to someone that is most definitely not mommy or daddy, been to two hospitals, witnessed gang activity, and sat in many waiting rooms. And, although she might not agree, she got the good end of the deal.

Tuesday during nap time I was doing all those domestic-goddess-type-activities when I was hit with a huge wave of pain. I half-crawled back to bed before I realized that our phone is now across the room from our bed. So I was stuck laying in bed with no phone, trying not to throw up. I seriously considered yelling until Alex woke up from her nap so she could bring me the phone.

A few phone calls later and I was on the way to my OB's office, leaving Alexa with a friend. Another doctor in the office examined me and decided I needed an ultrasound to rule out appendicitis. To be seen in a timely matter, I was sent to the smaller hospital's ER. A quick stop at home to pick up Alexa and we were off once again. Our wait-time was approximately five minutes; it was a good start. Unfortunately, our luck ended there. The ONE ultrasound machine was broken.

Chris and Alexa headed home to pack a bag and have a snack and I was sent BACK to the other hospital. In an ambulance. Overkill? Yes. No more waiting rooms? Yes. ICU/Trauma Unit? Yes. Hospital on lockdown thanks to gang gunfights? Yes. Super fun? Yes.

So there I lay, in the Trauma Unit, listening to doctors shouting orders for emergency surgery for the shooting victims. Two hours later I finally got in to the ultrasound. Of course, seeing how awesome my day was going, the ultrasound would turn out to be totally inconclusive. I don't think the surly tech even found my appendix. The Trauma doctor and surgeon argued over whether or not to cut me open anyway while I begged for food. A quick call to the OB and everyone had finally agreed: Send me home with no diagnosis but still in one piece.

Yesterday I finally got to see my own OB, the fabulous Dr. Jacobs. He decided that since my appendix is apparently MIA, it must be my kidney. I attempted to jump off the table when he hammered on my back, which also probably pointed him in the direction of "kidney issues." This would make a bit more sense, seeing as how my older sisters both have had major kidney stone problems. He looked up the results of the urinary analysis. Oh, wait, he DIDN'T see any results, seeing as how the first hospital never ordered a UA and the second hospital assumed they had. You'd think that'd be a pretty easy test to run. I guess I'm not a doctor though.

Our last stop on the Disaster Journey was the lab for a UA. Still haven't heard the results. And, at this point, I can't say I really care. All I care is that I'm sitting on the couch, snuggling with Alexa. I have laundry piled up, a dishwasher to unload, and the living room resembles a disaster area, but here I sit, watching Handy Manny.