My Side of the Story

I don't have such fond memories of our date night. In fact, I have such horrible memories that I wouldn't dare call it a date night. Sunday evening began like any old evening, but it ended much differently. My stomach "ache" began around 9pm and progressively got worse until 12:15am when I regretfully woke up my husband to ask for a blessing. After the blessing, the pain got so bad, I had to go to the ER. There really was no other choice. I could not talk, breathe, or walk standing up. It was bad. We called my mom and asked her to come over to be with the sleeping kids. Then we took off.

I don't remember saying too much to Paul during the drive to the hospital or in the waiting room--where we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally at 1:30am, while waiting, I 'got sick' in the bathroom, and the pain started to subside. By 1:45am, I was not in pain anymore. So you see why I felt kinda silly when we finally got called back to see a doctor, and I had to tell him that I used to be in pain and this is what it felt like. Sure, he couldn't witness me dying. He just had to take my word for it. Don't you just hate that?

Anyway, the doctor believed me and ordered some tests, each of which took over an hour, so by 5am, we were told that I would be staying over a few days. My only thought was that the kids would wake up to find Grandma there and mom and dad gone. How sad. How scary. Luckily I was moved to a room at 6am and Paul booked it home to wake the kids up and take them to school. My kind mother took Emma and Jake for the day so Paul could get some sleep.

So do you agree with me that this does not qualify as a date? After the pain subsided I do remember talking to Paul about anything and everything, but it was more the babbling kind of silly conversation that comes out of me when I am extremely tired. And that night, I was extremely tired.

I guess the rest of this story is history. My pancreas was pretty inflamed, so they kept me on an IV and bedrest through Monday and then Tuesday afternoon, they removed my gall bladder. It's Wednesday night, and I'm home and testing the limits of what I can do. So far I've learned that hanging clothes in my closet kinda hurts. Don't worry, I'm keeping close tabs on the four hours in between pain pills. I'm not usually one to take a whole lot of pain pills, but I had enough pain on Sunday night to last me an entire lifetime. And I mean it.

I do want to thank all those who brought me flowers and cards. And those who called and gave me their love and concern. And especially those who prayed for me. His will be done, and I guess His will is that I'm better and recovering nicely at home. Thank you.