Anyone who talks to us or reads my Facebook status updates knows that this year has been challenging, health-wise. Even before this last bout with illness I had (not-so-jokingly) dubbed this year The Year We Were Always Sick. We had taken two trips with Indigo to the emergency room at Bambino Gesu, the local children's hospital, by November - once with a virus that had inflamed her hip so that she could not walk, and once with a bout of croup/pneumonia. We've contracted virus after virus since; partially because we're in a new country, with its own strain of nasty bugs, partially because we have a two-year-old who is still lagging in the hygiene department at times (and more importantly, so are her classmates, so she brings all their germs home). So most of the illnesses are probably normal(ish), even though they seem constant.
But even the unrelenting onslaught of illness didn't prepare us for what would happen if a true medical emergency occurred. Looking back, I think I've actually been sick for some time. I'd been feeling sluggish, fatigued, for a couple months. I had attributed to a general winter malaise - there's been a recent death in my family, and I am terribly homesick (and ready to go home to the States), and it's been dreary and grey. So I thought, reasonably, that I was feeling a bit down, and nothing more.
Then, the Thursday before last, I awoke with some minor back pain and some light queasiness. I brushed it off, thinking it would fade after breakfast. I took Indigo to school as usual, and then decided to go for a little walk. The pain increased, and I could tell that it wasn't really back pain, exactly. More like - some kind of weird pain inside my right ribcage, that was also manifesting in my back somehow. Abruptly I thought of my liver - the liver was there, right? The pain was too high to be a kidney. And not central enough to be the stomach or intestines. I turned back home, and as I walked the pain increased, and I soon began to feel very ill. I had to use all my willpower not to be sick, and finally made it home. And then abruptly was.
Josh had been waiting for me, because I had mentioned not feeling well. Now, suddenly, the pain accelerated, and I realized that I was in trouble. The pain was becoming unbearable, and I realized that it reminded me of when I had a kidney stone back in 2006. With a sinking feeling, I read the symptoms for a gallstone attack - and realized that if what I was feeling was indeed gallstones, then surgery was in my future.
We went to an emergency room straightaway at the hospital on the island in the Tiber River (Ospedale Fatebenefratelli). The next five and a half hours were hellish. No one at triage/reception spoke a word of English. I had not looked up the translation for "gallbladder" before we left home (hard to think of details like that while in severe pain). I tried to explain and finally just said, "Pain, pain!" and pointed to the area where I thought the gallbladder was. We then waited. And waited. And waited. I had to make frequent trips to the bathroom to be sick. There was no toilet paper or soap for washing up. I had, ridiculously, amazingly, thought to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, so there was that comfort.
Finally, we saw a doctor. He promptly sent Josh out of the room (we think maybe, to assess whether it was a domestic violence issue?) and asked me some questions. I explained that I thought I was having a gallbladder attack, and he seemed to be half-listening, almost bored. (I know you're not supposed to turn to Dr. Google for self-diagnosis, but I'm actually very good at figuring out what's wrong with myself, and with Indigo). I explained that I was in extreme pain. He examined me, asking if the pain was low, in my kidneys. "No, it's higher," I said.
"So does it hurt here," he said, and then he punched my kidney! I gasped, unbelieving. I guess I said no, although I wanted to shout, "Now it does, asshole!" but in reality I think I was trying not to be sick again, and thinking that if I pissed him off, I might not get any pain medication.
They hooked me up to an IV with something to help my stomach and sent me off to another room on a stretcher. There were 4 or 5 other people on stretchers. We waited. And waited. I was in agony. It felt like something was about to burst in my abdomen. There was pain with every heartbeat, so it almost felt like what I'd imagine a heart attack feels like. Still no pain meds. I got sent off to get an ultrasound done. To my surprise, the tech told me immediately that I had stones in my gallbladder. No - I was surprised by the stones - I was surprised that they told me. Techs in the US will never tell you what they find during a test. They always say that the doctor will discuss the results with you.
They then send me out in a wheelchair to wait in the hallway. We waited. And waited. Somehow I managed to doze, and to drink a little water. They forgot about us. After two hours, Josh went to talk to someone, and I saw another doctor, who did another ultrasound. "You have stones in your gallbladder, and it is inflamed, infected," he said. "It will need to come out."
I'd been prepared for this ever since I consulted Dr. Google, but Josh was not. It hurt, seeing the emotions race across his face: shock and terror and worry. I felt bad for not mentioning it before, but I was hoping I was wrong, that surgery would be unnecessary. This doctor finally gave me something for the pain (5 hours into our stay!), although it did little but take the edge off - apparently they couldn't give me anything stronger because I was on anticoagulants.
Home again. We divided and conquered. Josh went to collect Indigo from our amazing friends Katrin and Patrick, who had picked her up from school and brought her home. I called the insurance company to see what we'd need to do to get this surgery underway, then called my doctor in the US for a second opinion (she said it sounded like surgery was necessary) and my doctor in Italy, who gave me the name of a surgeon. Then we faxed a ton of paperwork to my doctor in the US who sent it in to the insurance agency for us, and booked an appointment with the surgeon for the next day.
Next: Surgery.
Ugh, what a nightmare! So glad it's over now.
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