Appendages and Their Disposition
I've learned a valuable lesson: if your gut hurts but there are no symptoms of indigestion, check if it might be your appendix, because if you delay, it's going to hurt a lot more. Not that having your appendix out doesn't hurt. Nothing that involves a two-inch incision through the abdominal muscle wall followed by somebody poking around in there and cutting stuff out isn't going to result in pain. If, however, I'd been more aware, I think I might have gone in for the surgery prior to my appendix having become gangrenous (apparently mere minutes away from bursting and resultant peritonitis, although the doctors all said that's not the problem it used to be, my appendix was rushed out of my body and into the parking lot, where specially developed robots were used to detonate it safely). Then the doctors had to find something else, and they had to tell me about it in the most ominous fashion. There was Something Else we found. Pause. Nothing serious (brightly). Apparently I had a small, congential leftover from my days as a fish in mommy's belly. The small intestine has a bit that's part of the umbilical or connected in there somehow or other, which usually detaches and goes away. Mine detached but stayed, a small diverticulic (I think I made that word up) pouch that doesn't do anything (like the appendix), usually doesn't ever cause trouble later but can sometimes (like the appendix) and was right there where they could find it and a bit infected because of the appendix situation. Well, imagine that; I come to Australia and discover I'm a marsupial from birth. No wonder I've wanted to come here for so long. So anyway, I got two surgeries for the price of one. Sort of like when you take your car into the garage and the mechanics change the oil and the plugs but don't overcharge you for the unspecified work. Socialized medicine. Wonderful. This has, however, left me with a two-inch incision instead of the smaller, "keyhole" variety and a longer healing time. It's also meant I've been off-line for four days and will probably spend more time staring stupidly at the television than surfing the 'net. I will also probably spend a lot of time re-reading really bad books instead of any of the great works of literature lying around the house, because I'm sick, so I'm allowed. I will make an effort to get to at least one Martin Beck mystery, however, just to save face.