An Unexpected End...

...to our First Year of Marriage came in the form of a two-centimeter large appendix inside Sean's abdomen.  


**Note:  Not realizing this would be a picture taking occasion, I forgot my camera so all my pictures are iPhone quality.  Just another reminder that I should always carry my camera!


Sean, who'd been experiencing some stomach pain for a couple of days, informed me on Wednesday evening that he thought maybe we should go to the doctor the next morning if he wasn't feeling better by then.  Since Sean hasn't been to a doctor really since I've known him, this alerted me that something must be truly wrong.  Based on Sean's descriptions of his symptoms, I got on Web MD and looked up appendicitis, since Sean described the majority of his pain being located in his lower right abdomen.  While all the symptoms didn't fit, it worried both of us enough that we decided that if he still felt bad the next day, we would go to the doctor.


The next morning came, and Sean woke up at his usual horribly early morning hour while I lay still sleeping, hoping that he would feel much better so that I could continue sleeping.  Unfortunately, for both of us, this was not the case.  We arrived at Urgent Care by 7:15 am, and Sean was quickly admitted.  Around 7:45 am, Sean had changed into a very masculine gown (which would be his outfit for the next 36 hours).  I was a very supportive wife--I laughed (a lot) and took his picture.  

His outfit for the next two days

The first (of many) doctors ruled out two of the four options for males with unexplainable pain in the lower right abdomen (testicular torsion and kidney stones) since Sean was sitting upright and not in awful, gut-wrenching pain.  The third option, a hernia, was ruled out by poking around on Sean's belly.  That left, you've guessed it, appendicitis.  Well, to be fair, it meant appendicitis or some unknown pain.  To make the diagnosis official, Sean had to get a catscan.  After drinking special clear fluid over the course of two hours, a wheelchair arrived to wheel Sean to the catscan facilities.  


Having never seen Sean in a wheelchair before, it obviously meant I needed to take a picture.  

Rocking the wheelchair

Since I am used to walking around with my 6'2'' husband at my side, it was a  strange experience to be taller than him as we moved through the hospital.  The catscan took a total of 10 minutes, and then we were returned to our room to wait for the results.  By this point I was starving since we hadn't taken time to eat breakfast when we left our apartment.  A nurse pointed me in the direction of the coffee cart outside the hospital where I bought myself some breakfast.  Upon coming back, I tried to give Sean a kiss to which he replied:  "Get your smoothie breath out of my face.  You get to have a smoothie and lemon cake, and I get to have appendicitis."  Well, technically he didn't know he had appendicitis (yet), so he was really just whining.  


During this thirty minute waiting period, Sean and I made a bet with the two quarters left over from my breakfast purchase.  Since he was in the hospital gown, I let Sean choose which side of the bet he wanted to call.  Sean said, "I bet I have appendicitis.  That way I win either way."  


A few minutes later (about 11 am), the doctor appeared saying, "Yep, that sucker is coming out of you today!"  Sean won the bet!  

Displaying appropriate "Oh no, surgery!" reactions

In case we didn't believe him, the doctor showed up the catscan images, meaning we saw cool pictures of the inside of Sean's body.  The doctor explained that when looking for the appendix, it should be no bigger than about 7 millimeters in size and appear on the screen as a thin line.  Sean's appendix, however, was a whopping 18 millimeters and was quite easy to see as a large ball on the screen.  Sean's surgery was scheduled for about 5 pm, so we had a while to wait.


We spent the next several hours reading, talking, reading, being bored, and reading.  Luckily I had brought Harry Potters 5, 6, and 7 with me to keep me occupied, and Sean had his Kindle.  

Passing away the HOURS...

Having never done anything like this before, I didn't realize how boring waiting for surgery could be.  I mean, the morning was exciting and fast paced!  Waiting the five hours between finding out he was having surgery and the actual procedure..not so much.  AND, to make matters worse, since it was mid-day on a Thursday afternoon, nothing good was on the TV in his room (not for a lack of checking).  

Waiting with a smile

Around 4 pm, a wheel-ey (I guess the proper term is gurney) bed was brought to Sean's room to take him to prep for his surgery.  While I was allowed to accompany him down to the first floor, I was not allowed with him while they prepared him for the surgery and was directed to the Family Waiting Room.  That part was not fun.  I maintain that it was less fun for me since I had to do the waiting (and I've seen lots of Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice shows where not good things happen in surgery) while Sean got to have his stomach shaved, get oxygen, remove his underwear, have socks put on his feet, and be put under anesthesia--all things much more fun than waiting.  


About an hour and a half later, the surgeon came to talk to me (side bar:  Being the person who the surgeon comes and talks to after performing a surgery made me feel really, really old).  He said the surgery had gone well but had taken longer than expected due to its LARGE size (two WHOLE centimeters!) and that Sean was being moved to recovery.  Feeling much better, I tried the hospital cafeteria food (which was surprisingly good) and continued to wait.  Once he was moved back to the room, I was allowed to go up to see him, and go up and see him I did. 


When I made it up to the fourth floor, Sean had just arrived strapped to the gurney in front of the room and was in the process of being moved into the room.  Definitely loopy, he smiled at me and said, "Hi wife.  I love you".  (I doubt he remembers that, as he promptly fell asleep again).  After moving him into the room, getting him all set up, and hooking him up to medicines and the IV, we were left alone...so I took some more pictures!  

Here I told him to smile, and then I decided it
looked more pitiful than not smiling.

Here's the less pitiful picture

Sean subsequently slept on and off for the next many hours what with having surgery, being drugged up, and being tired.  I definitely didn't blame him!  In fact, I was quite jealous of his ability to go to sleep and the fact that he got a  bed.  Since they were all out of cots, the nurses found me a reclining chair that I could sleep in (which I greatly appreciated) and provided me with pillows, sheets, and blankets (which I also greatly appreciated).  It is amazing how many machines, especially machines that made noise, were required to keep Sean in good health through the night--the bed would move every minute to prevent bedsores, the IV dripped continuously (except when something would go wrong like air in the line in which case it set off a horrid alarm clock-esque noise until a nurse came and took care of the problem), and his "socks" (blood-flow socks for his calves) would make a air mattress noise every five minutes or so.


When it finally became daylight (neither of us had any concept of "morning" since we woke up almost every hour), I was thrilled that we would be able to go home.  Sean had breakfast, and then I thought we'd get to go.  Breakfast came and went, no going home.  The nurse told Sean to walk around the hallways to make sure he could move around all right before we were sent home.  

Taking a stroll

Move around the hallways we went, and still we didn't get to go home. Lunch also came and went, no home.  Finally (can you tell I was a bit anxious to head home to shower and sleep?), by the time I had finished my third book (Harry Potter 7), the nurse came in and gave Sean his discharge.  


After 36 hours in a hospital gown, 1 surgery, 1 organ removed, and at least 24 hours without underwear, Sean was allowed to go home!  


And this, dear people, is how we spent the last day (really, two days) of our first year of marriage.  

Snorkeling Adventure

Through a new friend  (James), my labmate, Samantha, and I heard about an awesome opportunity called the Three R's: Rips, Rocks, and Reefs, a program hosted by two former San Diego lifeguards every two weeks during the summer where they teach people about how to snorkel and dive in different locations across San Diego.  Last weekend the location was Shell Beach in La Jolla, California.  

The rocks in the background of this photo are
where this particular adventure took place.

Sam and I showed up at the appropriate location by 7:45am, an impressive feat when you consider that I am not a morning person (ESPECIALLY on Saturdays) and Sam is notoriously a late person.  We also showed up fully dressed in our wet suits with our snorkeling gear in hands, ready to go.  We quickly realized, once we looked around and saw everyone in their street clothes, that most people don't come fully dressed.  That didn't stop us though:  We were ready!  


At first there was serious doubt about whether or not the program would take place because some large swells were coming in and they were worried about our safety.  Sam and I were of the  "BRING IT ON!" opinion.  (Shortly later, this was not the case.)  We'd woken up, put on our wetsuits, by golly, we were going in that water!

After one of the former lifeguards and leaders of the Three R's came in from testing the water, we were told that the adventure would take place!  Everyone else who had arrived (around 30 people or so) got "suited up", and we gathered around the lifeguards for the most terrifying safety talk of our lives.  The first lifeguard, a slim muscular fifty-or-so year old man started by making sure that we were are capable of giving the "all okay" symbol in the water (grabbing both of your hands above your head in the water) and the "need help" symbol (waving one fist in the air and slapping the water with it).  He then proceeded to discuss, in detail, exactly what could go wrong and the amount of pain, bleeding, and broken body parts that could result from what we were about to attempt.  I remember phrases like "gushing blood" and "face planting on the rocks" and "having your feet and hands torn to shreds".  At this point, Sam and I began glancing at each other with really wide eyes, seriously questioning this particular outing.  But, we persevered.  

We then gathered around the fence looking down at the beach where we would be swimming with the second lifeguard, an older man with grey hair, who looked like a cute grandfatherly figure.  Here, I assumed, we would get the reassurance of "You'll be fine; just be careful".  Surely they had a "Good Cop, Bad Cop" thing going on where one person scared us and the other provided us with the necessary confidence.  


No.  They did not.  He pointed out all the rocks that we could hit and slammed his fist down on the fence railing to demonstrate what our faces would do on the rocks if we were caught in the breaking waves.  Sam and I began staring at each other with eyes wider than before and huddling closer to one another.  With our confidence levels plummeting with each passing moment, we hiked down the stairs to the beach.  I informed Sam that I had three goals: 1) Not to die, 2) Not to lose or break any body parts, and 3) To have fun.  The initial crowd had dwindled to a mere 15 or so people (half of what we had started with).  In addition to the two lifeguards, three rescue divers went out with us into the water with "cans".


We were informed that: "If you touch these during the swim, I will assume you need rescued.  I will personally swim you to the shore, and make sure you are okay.  These are not for play."  

  

The "cans"

Properly scared and timid, we all entered the 60 degree water walking backwards so that we didn't trip over our flippers.  Once in the water, we swam into the rip current.  Now, I have always been taught to avoid rip currents, as they are dangerous and cause people to drown.  Apparently, as I learned through the Three R's, they are also useful and can be used to be taken out to sea if you know how to do it properly.  So, into the rip current we swam, and it was amazing just how fast we were moving without much swimming.  Unfortunately, that was the only period of rest.  As soon as we got around seal rock (a rock with, you'll be shocked by this, seals), we turned parallel to the shore, swimming as quickly as possible to avoid being pounded by the incoming waves.  Then, on the far side of the rock, without much of a break, we then swam quickly perpendicular to the shore, again swimming exhaustingly quickly to avoid the breaking waves.  Once on the far side of the rock, we then had to CONTINUE swimming fast (much to my and my lungs and my heart's disappointment).  At this point, the remaining lifeguard left us to go rescue someone and, somehow, we had also lost the rescue divers.  By lost, I mean that they had to go rescue other people behind us.  The lifeguard just pointed us to the shore and said, "Keep going!"  The water got surprisingly shallow so "going" meant swimming/ crawling/ bumping along the rocks.  Finally, Sam, James (the friend who had introduced us to this adventure), and I, plus two other people (which adds up to a total of five), made it to our destination: the shore.  


Everyone else had to abort the swim mission and get out at an easier spot or be rescued by the lifeguards and rescue divers.  So, out of thirty people, only five of us made it through the entire exercise.


That's right.  We're bad butts. 

Samantha and I (on a different occasion),
being awesome