A Farewell to My Appendix. Or Not.

My dear Mr. Nicholas has now been with us for a little over two weeks. His arrival was a bit of a surprise; he came 2 weeks earlier than my scheduled c-section, which was 1 week earlier than my actual due date. I guess he just couldn't wait to meet us.

That fateful morning, two weeks ago, I woke up with a funny feeling in my stomach. I'd been dreaming I was in labor but when I woke up, the dream ended but the feeling remained.

"Patrick...I think I'm in labor." I whispered.
"Hmm. It's hot in here. Can you turn on the fan?" He replied.
"Patrick! LABOR. I think I'm in labor."
"Oh."

And so it began. After a short (ok, longer than necessary) debate about whether actual labor had ensued and what to do with our other offspring (it was 5 in the morning and Patrick, had determined she could join us at the hospital...she ended up going to the neighbor's house) we walked to the hospital.

Things progressed rather quickly once we arrived. Doctors, nurses, medical students coming in and out of the intake room...needles going in monitors turned on...a short loss of sanity when aforementioned medical student began her intake questionnaire with "So, what brings you to the hospital today?"

Before we knew it, we were in the operating room, waiting to become parents again. Nicholas arrived with a shriek and was greeted with tears of joy.

As he was examined by the nurses, the doctors began putting me back together. A face appeared over the curtain and reported "We're going to take out her appendix, it's black and gross." At least, that is what I think they said. Patrick's version of the story is different, but since I'm the blogger, we're going with my version. I thought it was a little odd, but Patrick readily agreed to the removal. He's a doctor, I occasionally trust his judgement on these issues.

Now, let's fast forward a week. I'm at the OB's office to have my incision checked. Everything is going normally. Katelyn is freaking out in her stroller, Nicholas is sleeping, and I'm perched on the edge of the examination table trying to listen to my doctor. She's asking me how I feel (fine), do I have any pain (a little), am I still taking pain medicine (only for pain that accompanies loss of sanity)...and then she drops this:

"So, we got the pathology report on your appendix. They can't be certain that that is actually what they removed."

Silence. (Except for Katelyn, who's reached an all time high reading on the decibel chart)

Yes, you read that correctly. Evidently whatever they removed was so foul, so black, so atrophied, so shriveled, that its exact composition could not be determined.

How is it possible that I had something so disgusting inside of me? And what else is lingering unneccessarily in there?

When I told Patrick his response, after a moment of silent shock, was, "I can't wait to see that path report."

And that's what he did. He marched himself over to the Pathology Lab and demanded to speak with the attending who wrote the report. And he then obtained said report. Maybe it is my appendix, maybe it isn't was the basic answer he got.

Now I just have to wait and see if I ever get any "sub-quadrant acute pain" in my future and I'll have my answer.

Modern medicine indeed.