Surprise!

Some of you may have heard that I've been out sick. It's true.

On Sunday morning, I woke up at 5:00am with the same projectile vomiting I've had in the past that I thought was food poisoning. This is the third or fourth time in a couple of years that I've had this, and every time, I thought it was something I ate.

But this time was different for one very crucial reason: in between bouts of projectile vomiting that approached competitive standards, I couldn't shake the idea that Addis Ababa, capital of Ethiopia, had been moved to Poland. That's right. Poland. Every time my stomach got me out of bed for another round of barfing, there it was: Addis Ababa is now in Poland and neither the Ethiopians nor the Poles are terribly happy about it.

By the wee hours of Monday morning the vomiting was over, but the pain wasn't. I was so miserable that by Monday night, my defenses shattered by pain and suffering, I did something that I would normally never do in a million years - consented to see the doctor.

We just changed insurance at work, so I took advantage of the opportunity to change doctors - I found one right down the road from us. We went in for an appointment and the guy said "From what you describe, I think you need to have your gall bladder out soon."

"How soon?"

"I'd like you to drive to the emergency room..."

The Pirate sweetly drove me to the emergency room and ran interference for me while a host of doctors and nurses too numerous to count poked, prodded and otherwise assaulted my dignity. I could tell that everything was going to be okay when the first thing they said was "We're going to get you some antibiotics and some morphine." They went on to take blood tests, EKG, ultrasounds, and all that stuff in order to get me into the OR before 5:00pm.

You had me at "morphine."

When we met the surgeon and he told me that he'd be going in through my belly button, and the Pirate and I had the same thought: maybe he could take my belly button off! I've had problems with it for more than 20 years, and I've been dying to have the thing gone. Unfortunately, I proposed it to him and the poor surgeon just looked confused and flustered by the suggestion.

I do have to point out one shortcoming of the insurance system. I asked for a pedicure and a Brazilian wax once I got into the OR, and it seems that I got neither. Bastards! I did ask which of the OR staff would be responsible for Twittering the operation, and he told me that I was. Unfortunately, I was unable to use both thumbs, so I didn't manage live surgical coverage. Sorry, everyone.

The crappy thing about hospitals is that they're full of old, sick people. The woman in the room next to me was up all night asking - screaming, really - for Jane. She screamed for Jane and Allison came. She screamed for Jane and Sarah came. She screamed for Jane and Alberta came. Apparently, the poor lady had slept all day and now found herself wide awake and scared in her hospital bed alone at night. Neither one of us slept.

But I was discharged yesterday at lunchtime, and I've been home and doing just fine. I'll likely be back at work (remotely) tomorrow, and back at the office on Monday.

And on the record, if you're ever sick in my neck of the woods, Dominican Hospital is AWESOME. I want to marry it, it's so nice. And I know that Addis Ababa is not in Poland.