Was not lying in bed for hours with what felt like pregnancy contractions that wouldn't stop.
Wasn't trying to take over with the kiddos when I walked into the living room to find Jeremy dead on the couch from the previous day's 5 mile steep hike with the scouts.
Nor was it spending the entire day trying to decide whether or not I actually needed to go to the ER or if I just had a really, really bad stomachache.
It wasn't being poked at least 6 times in different places as three different nurses took over an hour trying to get an IV going (I always have this problem.)
Or when I looked in the mirror for the first time that day and realized I had come to the ER in Jeremy's baseball shirt, greasy hair that hadn't even been combed, and no makeup.
It wasn't when the Morphine didn't do a thing for the pain, or when the other narcotic made me so sick I wished they hadn't even tried it.
It could have been when Jeremy busted out laughing when the doctor walked in and announced that the imaging results showed I had appendicitis, but then again-- I laughed too. I mean, come on-- OF COURSE it was appendicitis. We are not the kind of family who would have gotten away with a "just a bad case of gas" kind of diagnosis, especially on the night before Graci's scheduled surgery.
It wasn't throwing up after being taken on an elevator in my narcotic-induced nausea.
Or having to wait 10 hours from the time of diagnosis to the time they actually performed the surgery.
It should have been that the pain never subsided that whole time, but it wasn't that either.
Or waking up and having a sore throat from the oxygen tube and soreness from my three incisions.
It wasn't trying to figure out how to make Graci's surgery work, and contemplating going there to be with her despite my miserable condition.
Or driving home feeling terrified each time we hit a bump or made a turn.
It certainly could have been the fact that this whole episode completely took away my one comfortable sleeping position-- lying on my stomach with my toe off the side of the bed! And the fact that my tailbone is going to have a harder time healing now that I'm laying on it ALL THE TIME.
Why wasn't it any of these things? Because as you may remember, I began exercising last week, and eating "diet-y" too, and was so excited to have lost a couple of pounds and be on my way to getting in great shape. So that entire time I was in pain, I kept thinking, "well, at least I haven't eaten anything besides some crackers and jello, so I've got to have lost a couple more pounds." And, upon getting home and finally hobbling into the bathroom, was excited to stand upon the scale, only to find...I had gained EIGHT pounds! EIGHT!! In two days of eating practically nothing. I weigh more than I've weighed since I was pregnant. I weighed myself three times just to be sure, and the same wretched number kept popping up. I must say I was pretty darn discouraged, until my mom just explained to me that I'm just retaining water. May that be true!!!
What I really came on to say, though, is thank you. I am overwhelmed at the kindness shown to our family today. This past hour I am feeling much better, as evidenced by the fact that I finally made it out of my bed and am able to write this. I know it is because of your prayers and I love you for it. To those who said that God would take care of us, you are right. And I have found that He does so through the thoughtfulness of other people. Thank you Kylie, Heather, LuAnn, Breeana, the Short family, Bishop, and my wonderful parents. Thank you for the sweet comments on the blog. Thanks for all the calls-- I know about them even though I haven't personally received them. You are all wonderful. Now please keep our Graci in your prayers. I will certainly have more empathy for her, as her surgery is much more intense than my own.
PS Oh, and Becky-- having a few of your children here for the weekend had absolutely NOTHING to do with my appendix, so stop worrying! We would love to have them ANY DAY. They are so much fun.