“Man plans, God laughs.” — Yiddish proverb

As the image above shows, sometimes things don’t go the way we would hope or plan.

Take for instance, my weekend:

I felt extremely nauseous Saturday morning when I went to work my EMS job.  I made it through the day and eventually started feeling better.  But I felt so bad I didn’t want to eat my favorite breakfast.  Saturday evening when I went to my hospital job, I was exhausted and just didn’t feel very good at all.  Still not very hungry, but I was able to eat.

Sunday, I made it home and slept for a bit.  Still nauseous but it got better after I ate a few bites.  I fixed dinner for work and OMG!!  While the smell of cooking fish has never bothered me, the odor of frying catfish just about sent me ’round the bend.  As I drove to work I experienced an uncomfortable sensation in my right side which worsened as the night went on.  By midnight, I was fairly certain I was headed down to the ER to be evaluated and probably have surgery.

Perhaps it was the continued, concentrated pain in the right side.  Or the fact that I couldn’t sit upright in my chair, instead doubled over, slightly guarding my abdomen.  Or even as I insisted it was “just gas” and tried sipping a soda to encourage belching, I fought the urge to puke.  Physiologically, the cards were stacked against me — I had a slight fever, an elevated white blood cell count and a CT scan positive for a “hot appy.”

Monday morning dawned bright and early and found me to be a patient in need of an appendectomy.  Fifty-one years and NOW the little bugger has to make it’s presence known!  Due to lifting restrictions, I am not allowed to return to my hospital job for two weeks; the EMS job is more willing to work with me in finding ways to get me back on the street.

In the meantime, I am sitting back, relaxing (which is harder than it sounds), reading, catching up on movies, and making plans . . . . and minus one appendix appendage.