“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.