I got the message on Friday that DH was not doing well and needed me to come home right after camp. His latest relapse started on Tuesday when he decided it would be a good idea to take the boys to the Franklin Institute. He only lasted two hours before he started limping and slurring his words. But on Friday a new symptom began: his eyes stopped moving from side to side. Since I now have my medical degree from Google, and have watched enough neurological exams to consider myself an honorary neurologist, I began doing a basic exam. When I asked DH to follow my finger, I saw that his eye were no longer tracking smoothly. Instead of following my finger like I expected, they moved in an extremely jerky motion, sometimes not even looking at my finger. At that point we decided to head to the ER.
The doctors ran all the usual tests (all of which came back normal) and decided to keep him overnight. On Saturday they ran a couple more tests. While we waited (and waited and waited) for the doctor to come in and discharge him, my stomach started hurting. Then it was my back as well. I couldn't find a comfortable place for myself. I tried laying down flat in his bed (DH was sitting in a chair by then), pushing my back against the wall, going for a walk up and down the hall, but it kept getting more uncomfortable. By the time I had walked downstairs to get the car and pick him up, I was definitely in enough discomfort to agree to go directly to the ER.
After a quick physical exam, the doctors were pretty sure it was my gallbladder, and the ultrasound confirmed it. They admitted me in order to do the surgery on Monday. Yeah, my last meal was lunch on Saturday, and then just clear liquids until they finally did the surgery on Monday around 2 or so. They were able to operate laperscopically, using four small incisions, but it still hurt a lot more than I expected. I opted to stay an extra night to help manage the pain, and I came home yesterday.
And just to show how much my DH totally rocks, I came home to a room that had just been straightened up, to a bed with fresh sheets on it and a huge helium "Get Well" balloon tied to it, and a cleaned off night table that had a big stack of magazines and fluffy new "chick lit" books and two "chick flick" DVDs.
There is so much more I can write about this. I could reflect on the reason this all happened, that maybe I was meant to learn compassion by switching places with DH, that he was meant to get a feel for being the one not in the hospital bed for a little. But my stomach hurts and I'm tired, so that's all I'm writing for now.