I rarely do anything by halves and once every year or so I seem to get really really sick in a way that forces my zoom through life to a painful crawl. Two years ago it was 6 weeks of bronchitis. Last year it was the worst case of strep I've ever had. This time it was diverticulitis. I started feeling (for lack of a more ladylike word) gassy on Thursday. As in I really thought I needed to get rid of some but couldn't and it was incredibly painful. That feeling of bloat and stomach distension just kept getting worse until on Sunday, bent over with each painful step I took as I cradled my stomach, I decided maybe it was something worse. I went to Urgent Care first and since no one was in the lobby the doctor was behind the desk when I came in. He did me the kindness of asking me right there without checking me in what was wrong. Then he told me he didn't have the equipment to help me and that I needed to go to the ER. So when my family came home from church my husband took me down.
The only time I've ever been in the hospital is to give birth. I've never had a surgery and all sorts of frightening reasons for my pain were swimming through my brain. Add to that a past medicine interaction and general distrust of doctors and all was doom, gloom, and fear. Thankfully the staff on hand was incredibly sweet with me and explained every tiny thing they were doing. I first had to have some blood taken, then be given fluids to hydrate me which made me shiver half to death, and then I had a CAT scan done. I wasn't there above a few hours and the diagnosis was thankfully an uncomplicated case of diverticulitis. With a strong antibiotic and a liquid diet I should heal quickly.
I have been doing so. What I didn't expect was the emotional difficulty. On this sudden liquid diet I was never sated and the usual unfortunate side effect of antibiotics meant that I was struggling to stay hydrated or to even sleep for very long periods between using the bathroom.
It was the end of day 2 of this liquid diet that my husband came home to a very hangry, very emotionally compromised wife. I told him I wanted to vent and that before I started in I already knew that others had it worse and I was petty and pathetic but I just needed to cry about my current pain and woes. I told him about how hungry and miserable I was but about how afraid I was to go off a liquid diet too soon and bring back so much pain if I didn't heal. There was much more said besides but suffice it to say, he listened to it all. Then he told me he thought it would be just fine to start on some soft foods. Then he asked me if he could mash me a potato and make some pudding from scratch since we had no mix. It was 9 at night and he'd just gotten home from work. So I cried some more because that sweet offering made me feel so loved right when I was feeling so very unloveable.
He's a good man. I know not everyone has such love and kindness in a spouse. I hope I can always remember to be the kind word or deed that someone might need.
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." - Ian McLaren
