It's strange to think that yesterday a part of my body decided it was going to kill me.
Obviously it didn't succeed but it tried its best. I owe my life to the fact that it was very inefficient going about its job and instead of just randomly exploding like a grenade it decided that first it would go for a little bit of torture.
I broke. Everybody breaks.
At about 2:30 PM yesterday (Friday the 21st) I had my appendix removed. Before they removed it I was in the worst pain of my life, literally begging for the pain to stop, though who I was asking I'm not sure. The hospital did a great job of helping stop the pain, so let's say I was asking them while I was curled up in the fetal position, punching the wall because that pain would take my mind off the pain in my gut for even a second.
Morphine doesn't work very effectively on me but it took me down from the worst pain I've ever had to at least almost tolerable. Later they gave me this amazing drug called Fentinol and I was a happy camper.
Now? The offending appendage being removed from my innards I am in some discomfort due to being all cut up but this is nothing compared to where I was. Sure, it hurts to sit up or change position, and gas is a whole new experience, but this is pain I can handle.
The nurses said that I was the most awake and alert patient they've ever seen come out of surgery, and then the night nurse said she even forgot I had just had an operation because I'm up and about by myself, bending at the waist and keeping down food. That gas I mentioned? She says that normally takes days to come back. I've never had somebody be happy for me that I have gas...
But yeah. A part of my body decided it was time for me to die. The torture was epic, but in the end Man won.
Apropos to nothing, here is the bluebird of happiness:
