Eat some bad stir fry. Wake up with a stomach ache. Vow never to eat stir fry again. Try everything to make it better. Curl up on couch in a fetal position. Wake up next morning, go to class, then to Student Health Services. Go to surgery an hour later.
The stunning work of art the surgeon drew for me.
So my appendix decides it doesn’t want to live with me anymore. Fine. I didn’t want you anyways.
I got to sleep in the same room as this crazy old guy on morphine, who kept getting out of his bed in the middle of the night. It was hilarious, he had an alarm on his bed, so if he tried anything, I would wake up to him stumbling around in the dark. He couldn’t get too far anyway, with the IV and catheter still attached.
He would ask where he was, then get mad at the nurses for not telling him where he was.
Morphine makes people insane. It may be way cool, but I am going to steer clear, I think.
My favorite dialog of the trip:
Nurse: Do you need anything, honey?
Old Guy: Cigarettes and booze, that’s all I need.