Well that was a trip.

I used to hate needles, hospitals, medicine, etc. Yes I was afraid of being poked, I almost never gave blood and actually sort of marveled at people who did, making it sound mildly more inconvenient than briefly cleaning your room. But of course, after a huge health scare thats different from my appendix a few years ago, you sort of get over that in a hurry. Something something learning the hard way.

Anyway, I’ve had occasional digestive issues over the years. Nothing too serious, but enough to pop up once or twice a year and remind me something wasn’t quite right at that moment. It was usually the same: some abdominal pain that would come and go. Could be a very sore sensation for a few hours, to briefly doubled over in pain in my companies bathroom trying to breathe. I’m still not exactly sure at all what caused that.

Then about 18 months ago, it flared up again but this time felt different. The pain lasted all night and was easily a 7 out of 10. I’d somehow managed to make it through the night, but the next morning, I shifted my weight a little, and boom, pain shot up to a 9.5. I’d already done some painful research the night before, and everything pointed to the appendix. But I was still skeptical. Really? At my age? And it can hurt this much? But I called Kacie, who had been telling(and eventually yelling) me all night to go to the ER, and she drove me to Stanford. I winced and moaned every time we hit a bump.

They took one look at me, got me in quickly and gave me dilaudid through an IV. It was my first experience with painkillers and let me just say that that stuff works. It really, really works. I went from being doubled over in pain to feeling pretty relaxed and even smiling, despite being in a makeshift bed in the hallway.

They suspected appendicitis and sent me for a CT scan. There were two techs, and I remember wondering if they thought they’d find something worse. Turns out the scan confirmed it: appendix. They used the word perforated. I looked it up and basically it means burst. I asked one of the medical staff (can’t remember now if it was a doctor or nurse), and they just kept saying “perforated.”. Then they used the word ‘ruptured’. Whatever I asked they never used the word ‘burst’.

It was a bit unsettling. At one point, after swallowing some ice chips, I could literally feel a cool sensation in my lower right side like something was leaking. A doctor came in and told me if it hadn’t burst yet, the surgery would be simple. Looking back, I’m pretty sure she already knew the situation and was just keeping me calm.

They wheeled me into surgery, I chatted a bit with the team… and then woke up almost four hours later. In fact, my wife was worried to death as she had gotten the impression that it would be a simple 30 minute surgery. But no, definitely not a simple appendectomy since the appendix had already ruptured. In fact, the intestine it was attached to had also gone bad. Looking back, downplaying the severity sort of backfired, but I understand the motivations to assuage fears of loved ones.

So in all honestly, the surgeons saved my life. I wish I’d been able to properly thank her, but I was still out of it when she checked in after the operation. They’d gone with the standard 3 small hole approach, took a peek and said nope, we’re going to have to do some major stuff. And of course she did an incredible job and I wish I could thank her again.

The silver lining? Since the surgery, those digestion issues I used to get—completely gone. Unexpected bonus.