One of my favorite books when I was about 6 or 7 was a collection of short stories from the 1950's, called something like "True Tales of Courage and Adventure". I don't remember the exact title, but you get the drift. Lots of Age of Exploration, Man Against Wilderness, Survival Against All Odds. That sort of thing. One that stood out to me in particular though was a relatively new story when that book was written. It was a story from WWII about an emergency appendectomy performed aboard a submarine with no surgeon and only makeshift tools. Here's a retelling of that story, but the version I read in that True Adventures book was a lot more dramatized, heightening the danger and pain.
I was fascinated by the idea of the appendix. An apparently useless, tiny little organ inside my body that could, without warning, kill me in an extremely painful manner. I began watching myself for signs of appendicitis, gently probing that area of my body to see if today was the day it would turn on me. Every time one of my classmates had a stomachache I would tell them that it was probably their appendix, and then describe in lurid detail the fate that awaited them if they were not quickly seen to. I tried to ask the doctor to preemptively remove my appendix: since I was destined to become an astronaut it made sense just to get it out of the way while I was young. As I grew this obsession faded, as all childhood obsessions do, though an occasional bout of stubborn gas or sore abs from a workout would bring me back to wondering, until waking the next day to find all was well, or at least not worse. Until Memorial Day.
My wife and I were laying in bed watching an episode of Russian Doll. I felt an odd pain in my gut, which I assumed to be gas. After the episode ended I said I needed to get up and walk a bit, hoping to work things out, and she went to sleep. It wasn't truly painful at that point, but it was stubborn, and nothing seemed to shift it. I found my abdomen was sore and swollen as well. I had done a CrossFit "hero" workout the morning of Memorial Day, but no portion of it really worked the abdomen, so that was odd as well. I briefly considered the idea of appendicitis, but the pain was more widespread than I imagined it would be.
I tried to sleep, with poor result, tossing and turning all night unable to get comfortable. When I did sleep I dreamed of submarines and isolated Antarctic outposts and space stations, and taking a knife to my own skin to cut the pain out. About 6AM I awoke and the pain had shifted and sharpened, about midway between my navel and hip on the right side. Sometimes it felt like being stabbed, other times like someone had hit me with a hammer yesterday. My childhood had prepared me for this, and I was almost entirely certain, but I googled my symptoms anyways just to double check. After dressing I called my wife, who had gone on a morning walk.
I was able to function well enough to drive to where she was (about 3 miles away) and switch places so she could take me to the brand-new hospital. Here I do have to give my appendix credit for impeccable timing. The day after a holiday, 7AM on a Tuesday morning in a college town with no students is just about the absolute best time you could pick to go into the ER. Zero wait. They had me in an exam room within 10 minutes, and I was having a CT scan about 20 minutes after that. Blood and urine were collected and analyzed, but the CT was clear: acute appendicitis. Honestly, I was relieved. This stabbing pain that was quickly becoming unbearable had a clear cause, one which I always suspected would be coming for me sooner or later. My biggest fear had been that they would say it wasn't appendicitis and in fact they had no idea what was wrong with me.
Within an hour I was in surgery. My teenage sons were still asleep at home, I left them voice messages just in case. I told my wife to send a text to my mom and dad, and then they wheeled me off. The surgery took only about 35 minutes, and I was awake and alert less than an hour after that. My midsection was sore upon waking, but it was a completely different kind of pain, which was an unimaginable relief. The stabbing pain was gone.
Once the drugs cleared my system I was ready to go. I *walked* out of the hospital less than 6 hours after I struggled to limp in. It was all over and done with before any of the people in my life (except my wife) even knew anything was wrong with me. My mom didn't even have a chance to worry. Modern medicine is amazing. There are 3 small cuts on my stomach, and it's likely they won't even leave noticeable scars. They gave me pain medication I haven't really needed, and I went back to work yesterday. I'm not picking up anything heavy yet, or walking very far, but I'll be able to do a lot of things by early next week and should be back to normal within 3 weeks. The sutures they used are self-dissolving so I don't even need to go in to have stitches taken out.
My experience was about as far as you could get from an apprentice Navy corpsman holding my guts open with spoons while I lay dosed with ether on a wardroom table 100 feet underwater. I'll still count it as an adventure though.
I was fascinated by the idea of the appendix. An apparently useless, tiny little organ inside my body that could, without warning, kill me in an extremely painful manner. I began watching myself for signs of appendicitis, gently probing that area of my body to see if today was the day it would turn on me. Every time one of my classmates had a stomachache I would tell them that it was probably their appendix, and then describe in lurid detail the fate that awaited them if they were not quickly seen to. I tried to ask the doctor to preemptively remove my appendix: since I was destined to become an astronaut it made sense just to get it out of the way while I was young. As I grew this obsession faded, as all childhood obsessions do, though an occasional bout of stubborn gas or sore abs from a workout would bring me back to wondering, until waking the next day to find all was well, or at least not worse. Until Memorial Day.
My wife and I were laying in bed watching an episode of Russian Doll. I felt an odd pain in my gut, which I assumed to be gas. After the episode ended I said I needed to get up and walk a bit, hoping to work things out, and she went to sleep. It wasn't truly painful at that point, but it was stubborn, and nothing seemed to shift it. I found my abdomen was sore and swollen as well. I had done a CrossFit "hero" workout the morning of Memorial Day, but no portion of it really worked the abdomen, so that was odd as well. I briefly considered the idea of appendicitis, but the pain was more widespread than I imagined it would be.
I tried to sleep, with poor result, tossing and turning all night unable to get comfortable. When I did sleep I dreamed of submarines and isolated Antarctic outposts and space stations, and taking a knife to my own skin to cut the pain out. About 6AM I awoke and the pain had shifted and sharpened, about midway between my navel and hip on the right side. Sometimes it felt like being stabbed, other times like someone had hit me with a hammer yesterday. My childhood had prepared me for this, and I was almost entirely certain, but I googled my symptoms anyways just to double check. After dressing I called my wife, who had gone on a morning walk.
I was able to function well enough to drive to where she was (about 3 miles away) and switch places so she could take me to the brand-new hospital. Here I do have to give my appendix credit for impeccable timing. The day after a holiday, 7AM on a Tuesday morning in a college town with no students is just about the absolute best time you could pick to go into the ER. Zero wait. They had me in an exam room within 10 minutes, and I was having a CT scan about 20 minutes after that. Blood and urine were collected and analyzed, but the CT was clear: acute appendicitis. Honestly, I was relieved. This stabbing pain that was quickly becoming unbearable had a clear cause, one which I always suspected would be coming for me sooner or later. My biggest fear had been that they would say it wasn't appendicitis and in fact they had no idea what was wrong with me.
Within an hour I was in surgery. My teenage sons were still asleep at home, I left them voice messages just in case. I told my wife to send a text to my mom and dad, and then they wheeled me off. The surgery took only about 35 minutes, and I was awake and alert less than an hour after that. My midsection was sore upon waking, but it was a completely different kind of pain, which was an unimaginable relief. The stabbing pain was gone.
Once the drugs cleared my system I was ready to go. I *walked* out of the hospital less than 6 hours after I struggled to limp in. It was all over and done with before any of the people in my life (except my wife) even knew anything was wrong with me. My mom didn't even have a chance to worry. Modern medicine is amazing. There are 3 small cuts on my stomach, and it's likely they won't even leave noticeable scars. They gave me pain medication I haven't really needed, and I went back to work yesterday. I'm not picking up anything heavy yet, or walking very far, but I'll be able to do a lot of things by early next week and should be back to normal within 3 weeks. The sutures they used are self-dissolving so I don't even need to go in to have stitches taken out.
My experience was about as far as you could get from an apprentice Navy corpsman holding my guts open with spoons while I lay dosed with ether on a wardroom table 100 feet underwater. I'll still count it as an adventure though.
