A Bad Time for My Appendix To Act Up

I knew Cinco De Mayo in quarantine wasn't going to be as fun, but I wasn't expecting a really concentrated stomach ache after eating my mom's steak nachos. I was slogging through a now fully online spring semester of college and adapting my school's live sketch show FreqOut to be live-streamed instead over Zoom, so I had plenty on my plate. The next day, the pain increased to the point that I could no longer get comfortable in any position. My mom, after plying me with painkillers and crackers for a few days, decided to call in a family friend and registered nurse to check on me. She poked my stomach and said it was probably appendicitis and that I had to go to the hospital. I hadn't been to the hospital since I was carried out in my mom's arms and, this time, nobody was allowed to go in with me. I stumbled through telling people my symptoms as I had many more nurses and doctors poke me in that same spot and wheel me into different rooms. My poor mom was woken up around midnight by a call from my surgeon saying that my appendix was very sick but that I wouldn't have to worry about it since it was no longer in my body. Falling asleep in a hospital bed to the dulcet tones of a terrible HGTV show was the best sleep I'd had all year. They asked if I wanted to bring my appendix home with me, to which I responded "If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have paid you all that money to pull it out of me."

May 6, 2020

Aidan Beasley

Aidan Beasley

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