ok, so last week i made an unexpected trip to the ER.
i've been having a good deal of abdominal pain, lower right quadrant. at some point i thought to ask the internet: where exactly is my appendix? should i call my doctor?
you know, because after four nights awake with it, i thought maybe it's irresponsible not to mention it to a medical professional.
at my doctor's office they said come in tomorrow.
and the nice doctor lady said she thought i had a hot appendix, so she sent me right up to the ER.
at the ER they thought maybe not appendix, maybe kidney.
either way they do a buncha tests, including a CT scan, because that will give a lot of information about a lot of things in a big fat hurry.
and they get me in the room with the machine and THAT'S when they tell me there's going to be an enema contrast.
who doesn't love a surprise enema?
and i'm already in pain and there's all that stuff about breathe now. hold your breath. breathe out.
and on top of all that i have to concentrate on not leaking the contrast fluid all over plus the minute they mention the enema portion of the evening, i suddenly feel like i'm going to be able to give that urine sample they'd asked for.
we have a short discussion about how it's pretty much standard not to mention enema contrast to patients until they get to radiology, except in the case of young men because the effect they're going for - one in which the patient is less worried and tense, and apparently in everyone except young men SURPRISE enemas accomplish this-
apparently in young men the technicians insist that male doctors do the informing about this next part of the program because there's a cultural thing about young men and things being inserted rectally.
my discomfort is offset somewhat by the amusing prospect of being able to say the words "surprise enema".
short version of the story: i have nothing 'splodey. no hot appendix, no giant tumor, no twisted ovary, a whole list of things it isn't.
i still have pain, though. i have to be careful if i sneeze.
the nice doctor ventures a theory that while i was out playing in the woods or something i probably pulled or stretched something and it got all inflamed and angry and it's not stopping its little tantrum. he suggests i take ibuprofen three times a day for two weeks, even if i don't feel i need it. his theory is that eventually the inflamed thingie (whatever it is) will disengage and i'll be back to normal.
in the meantime, i'm ok with discomfort. as my mother explained in the ER, a thing has to hurt pretty much bad for me to even notice. it would just, like, really SUCK to have a 'splodey appendix or a huge tumor or something that was maybe gonna kill me soon and with that off the table i can just get back to the normal stuff.
or reasonable facsimile thereof.