Nothing get's a child's attention quicker than Dad announcing "I'm taking Mom to the hospital." We found that out last night.
I'd been having sharp pains in my stomach, chest and back for about 5 hours by the time he got home from work. By then, I was on the bed, curled up in a ball. The pain just seemed to begetting worse. Still, I thought I could wait it out - and tried to send him and the kids off to their various activities. He resisted, canceled all of their plans, and loaded me in the car and off we went to the Emergency Room.
Dad had called home to tell the kids everything was OK, we still didn't know what was wrong, and reminded them to pray that their mom would get better quickly.
We waited for a little over an hour. The pain had changed a little, but not much. The doc finally came in and looked me over, rattled off a list of scary sounding things he wanted to rule out: pancreatitis, peptic ulcer, diverticulitis....and ordered an IV and a bunch of tests, including a CAT scan.
He left and we waited a little more. All of a sudden, the pain stopped. It was gone. Nothing.
Well, the doc was stymied. After 7 hours of excruciating pain, I was back to normal. And I was pretty sure the tests would show that there was nothing wrong with me. All I can figure was that my wonderful children must have prayed real hard for me to get better.
It was a little embarrassing to get up and walk out of there after all the fuss. But I was so happy to be going home!
No comments:
Post a Comment