Appendicitis Part I

My brother Ian, who lives in Chicago, has been passing through Dallas quite frequently for business.  On his last pass-through we had lunch with my parents here at my house.  Before he left I asked him for a blessing.

It's no secret that my body is not cooperating as I would like and with him here I just really felt I needed a blessing and that he should give it to me.

It was wonderful.  It contained a lot of wonderful insight and promises and I felt the Spirit so strongly right through Max's gauging attempts to open my eyes as he sat on my lap.

The next day I kept having some of the phrases from the blessing run through my mind.  I wrote them down hoping if I didn't feel like I had to remember them, my head could slow down a little bit.

But one of those phrases stayed right there in my mind and on my heart.  I bless you to have an increased capacity to feel, recognize, and respond to the Spirit.


On Thursday, Ava woke up with a fever.  We did a run down on all her parts and pieces and couldn't come up with one other symptom.  I kept her home from school.  Friday she was fever free so I went ahead and sent her to school despite the 24 hour rule, just because she has already missed so much and didn't appear to have a thing wrong with her. She was fine that day and evening.

But by mid morning on Saturday, she could hardly say goodbye to her beloved Great Grandma Mimi, who was leaving for California, and she turned down a movie she was so eager to see.  Those facts, combined with her vomiting in a ziploc bag in the car, sealed the deal: our girl was sick.

Her fever was raging and her throw up was constant until it faded into lingering dry heaves. We accepted the fact that the stomach flu had hit full force and I braced myself for the boys to get it.

 The next day, Sunday, I came home from church, where Dan and Ava had stayed.  I sat down by Ava and she looked awful.  I watched as she attempted to get up to go to the bathroom.  She rolled like a log off the edge of the couch until her knees hit the floor.  Then she grabbed her stomach and said, "It just hurts so much." That was the first time I realized we might be witnessing more than just a tummy bug.  She had used the classic kid's line "my tummy hurts" from the get-go, but as I watched her, I realized there was pain involved, not just a sick stomach.  She stood up and I asked her, "Does it hurt in a certain place?"

"Yes." And she pointed gingerly to her lower right side.

In my mind,

Appendicitis


She went on to the bathroom.  And I found Dan.  "I think she has appendicitis."  He heard me, thought, and then agreed, having had an appendectomy himself.  We agreed I should take her to the urgent care.

She laid down on the table as I described her symptoms to the doctor.  The doctor pushed on Ava's tummy.  She listened to her stomach with a stethoscope.  Her bowels sounded too normal, and she didn't react in enough pain.

"It's not appendicitis.  She is probably having stomach cramps because she is so dehydrated.  Take her home, and give her pedialyte on this schedule for the next few hours and rest of today."

Appendicitis


 I realized that I'm no doctor but the dehydration diagnosis did not sit well with me.  We went home.  I talked with Dan.  He said I should do whatever I felt was best.

I went on to a Relief Society Meeting to work out the details of an upcoming activity.  As we discussed logistics, my mind  was elsewhere.

Appendicitis


 One of my least favorite aspects of motherhood is that terrible feeling of uncertainty that surrounds your children when they are sick.  I always wished they were equipped with those handy dashboard lights.  You could just flip them over and clear as day see "Chill out lady, he's just teething."  or "Take her in, this one's a doozy."

Instead I find myself stewing over symptoms and fevers, wondering if I should make an appointment, wondering if the doctor is going to make me feel like an idiot, wondering, wondering, wondering.

But while we discussed classrooms, and timing,

Appendicitis


And then,

I bless you to have an increased capacity to feel, recognize, and respond to the Spirit.


 I left the meeting, got home, and declared I was taking Ava to the Emergency Room.  Dan said, "Go for it!"


But while I drove that naggy, insecurity crept back in.

The doctor already said it's not appendicitis.


 But again,

Appendicitis


Luckily at the hospital they were a bit more scientific with their investigating.  Urinalysis and blood count revealed that there was a definite infection of consequence.

Poor Ava chugged her barium (and I felt some very keen sympathies) and threw it all up right before the CT scan.  No matter, though.  The image clearly showed appendicitis.

Appendicitis.


Before the stroke of midnight, Ava would be loaded into the ambulance bound for Cook Children's in Ft. Worth, radiologists would decide her appendix was actually already ruptured.  Shortly after 1 am, she would be admitted to the hospital, started on heavy doses of IV antibiotics, and prepped for a morning surgery.

We were all scared and overwhelmed, but at the same time there was a air of certainty and procedure, like pieces were being clicked into place in exactly the right ways.


My kids still don't have idiot lights,  and He may never say, "Chill out, Lady,"  but I am appreciating my ever-increasing confidence that Heavenly Father will send the information necessary to provide in the best way for his children.  And it is my job to feel, recognize, and respond.