E.R. STORY
I was probably only 8 yrs old the last time I was admitted to a hospital. I never wanted to relive that experience again. From that time on, I hated needles and I hated the smell of hospitals..

But I'm not unbreakable. Last week, I went to the ER expecting to go home with pain killer presciption. Instead I was told I needed immediate surgery. And that will go down as one of my frightening hospital visits ever.

I started experiencing pain in my lower abdomen Sunday afternoon last week. I'm no stranger to abdominal pain. I suffer from dysmenorrhea and ulcer, so I didn't really think it was any different this time. I also like to self-diagnose and self-medicate. I researched on the web and tried known home remedies. I was able to control my pain intermittently with Ibuprofen. In fact, the day before my surgery, I was able to spend half a day shopping for pasalubong. I walked slowly due to a little bit of pain, but I got by.

Tuesday morning as I got ready for work, I felt the stabbing pain again. And I knew then something was not quite right. I decided to go Urgent Care thinking it might just be an infection of sorts. But instead I was advised to go to the ER immediately and ask for an ultrasound. By then I was starting to get really scared. And I was still in pain. I had not taken Ibuprofen that day and the doctor didn't prescribe any pain medication either.

In the ER, they took urine and blood samples. They had to poke me several times because my veins were deep and thin.. Meanwhile, my stomach pain was not letting up. After 5 hours in the ER, they finally told me to get dressed and wait for the lab results. 30 minutes after they told me to wear the hospital gown again. They needed more blood samples and this time, they needed to do ultrasound. An hour and a half later, they told me I needed immediate surgery. And now I guess it was a bit flippant, but my response was "Can we do it tomorrow?"... I mean, I was not prepared for that. I didn't know whether I should call my family overseas. It was just way too much for me to process. The doctor gave me a kind of a sad smile and told me "No, sweetie, you could die if we don't do this right away. A nurse will be with you in a bit. I need to make a few calls"..

Soon a nurse was poking me again to set up the IV. A few minutes after that the surgeon came in to explain to me what he'll be doing. Gave me the odds of surviving the surgery, and other possible complications. He told me the surgery would probably only take half an hour.. A little later the anesthesiologist came in. They were all so wonderful. They kept reassuring me everything will be ok... And that they'll take care of me. As soon as they were gone I started crying. Not really knowing what to do. Not understanding how I was feeling at that time. I kept thinking, I cannot go without telling my family how much I love them... And yet I didn't wanna subject my mom and dad to anxiety due to my condition. I settled to telling my younger sis. I asked her to tell our eldest sis and that's it. Ate was a doctor so I figured she'd know if I needed to tell my parents. But she agreed to keeping the secret. So that assured me that I was going to be ok...

Soon the anesthesiologist and a nurse wheeled me to another room where they set up another IV in my left arm. My surgeon came in to say hello and disappeared again. The anesthesiologist kept apologizing for the pain he was causing me as he inserted another huge needle in my arm. I was shaking pretty bad because I was cold and well, I was beyond nervous. I asked how long he will put me to sleep. He said probably 30mins. And I asked if I'll wake up from it, and cheerily he said "Of course".. :) They wheeled me to another room and asked me to scoot to another bed, told me not to move because the bed was really narrow. I looked at a clock, and it was around 8PM. And that was the last thing I remembered.

I woke up hearing voices telling me to stop crying. Yes, I woke up crying. I was probably crying in my sleep. I was in the recovery room and they were monitoring my vital signs. I checked the clock and it was almost 10PM. I tried my best to stop crying, because I did not wish to cry in the first place. It seemed like a reflex. Just like when you wake up from a bad dream. As soon as I calmed down, I managed to say a quick thanks to Him for taking care of me. And thanked Him for the wonderful people who took care of me as well. The nurses were talking to me. Telling me I'll be fine. That I'm doing good. I asked for MB. They told me he's waiting for me outside.. Half an hour later they wheeled me to my room.. The worst was over.

The hospital stay was not bad at all. All the nurses were great. They checked on me every half an hour. I liked my bed too. All the controls to the inclination, lights and TV were within arms reach. My officemates visited me the following day, and there is really no better medicine than laughter because that night, I only asked for pain medication once. The nurse was even worried and asked me if I really didn't need any morphine shots bec. it's been hours. :)

I would have been on my way back to the Phils. today had it not been for the emergency surgery. Instead, I'm "at home" recovering. I have difficulty moving around. Still in so much pain. I'm practically disabled. And sometimes I cry at night when I remember what I went through. I surely have a lot to deal with still. But in spite of all that, I know I am still blessed. Someone is taking good care of me. I have a very good team. A supportive manager. And loving friends and family. I really couldn't ask for more.