From the hospital…

This blog entry is courtesy of my dear husband who graciously offered to post it for your enjoyment.

I’ve been at the hospital for almost a week now. As some of you may remember, I had an appendix surgery in November, followed by a pelvic inflammatory disease (caused by the appendix) and an ovarian cyst in December. Last Saturday night, out of the blue, I woke up agonizing in pain. I called my husband who was in Vancouver. He called a cab immediately, I fed Kinki 2 bowls of food (what a responsible mother), and off to the hospital I went.

The emergency “care” I received was terrible. I was accused of “faking it” to see a doctor faster. I was accused of being an attention seeker. After many unsatisfying tests, they opened me up on Monday afternoon. They found 2 ovarian cysts, one being 8cm, an abscess, and lots of infection everywhere. I was all cleaned up during the 1.5hrs operation. I have c-section, an incision around my left ovary, and one in my belly (I thought the appendix was bad.).

I was left alone, crying for hours, isolated by myself like a criminal. Of course, me the attention seeker was “faking it”. Misjudgment much? With a history of pelvic infections, this statement was not only insulting; it translated into extreme incompetence and poor skills. If I may add, I have nothing to complain about doctors/soon to be doctors. They are the most professional, caring, and fantastic individuals that this hospital has to offer. Cudo to them.

I should be off work from 4 to 6 weeks. I like being busy. I am not sure I can keep my sanity at home for such an extended period of time.

Again this time, my husband has been the most wonderful creature on earth. I did not want him to miss his annual meeting. He came back on Wednesday. In the meantime, my cousin and my wonderful colleague have taken good care of me. I am feeling extremely guilty that my husband’s work schedule has to be modified to accommodate all of my sick needs. I should come home Saturday or Sunday.

I am frustrated for being clued to my bed. I hate asking for help. I want to do things quickly and independently. I want to work. Between all of my work commitments, I feel I am letting many, many people down (yet again).

I am an emotional and physical mess.

I need to go now. Some nurse needs to poke more holes into my little arms.