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All good wishes for a speedy and thorough recovery Miss Lizzie.
They yanked my appendix out 41 years ago. I woke up one Friday morning in severe pain, and paid a quick visit to my doctor who sent me to a local hospital. I was admitted by 10:30 a.m., wheeled into surgery at 4:00 p.m., and was back in my room by 7:30, failing at my attempts to sleep off the anesthesia; the nurses waking me up every two hours to take my temperature and blood pressure didn't help.
The next day the pain from the surgery was so bad that I couldn't stand up straight. The nurses insisted I walk up and down the hallway, so I did so bent over and using the IV pole for support. That afternoon they moved me into another room where my new roommate was recuperating after being treated for a gunshot wound to the abdomen; he said he was cleaning his pistol and thought it wasn't loaded. That night a friend called to see how I was doing, and before long I found myself, my friend, and my new roommate laughing hysterically at whatever turn the conversation had taken. I was doubled over in pain from the surgery, but I honestly can't remember ever laughing that hard again in my life. The next day I woke up and felt no pain whatsoever, so I got out of bed, walked to the nurse's station, and asked if that was normal. The head nurse remarked that she'd never seen anything like it, but suggested I return to my bed. 20 minutes later the surgeon paid me a visit, inspected the wound, shrugged, and instructed the nurses to send me home. He also told me that my appendix was so inflamed that it would probably have burst if they'd scheduled my surgery 30 minutes later.
The saying "Laughter is the best medicine" was certainly true in my case, but I can't say I'd recommend it as recovery therapy for everyone recovering from surgery; the surgeon was surprised my stitches hadn't popped.
They yanked my appendix out 41 years ago. I woke up one Friday morning in severe pain, and paid a quick visit to my doctor who sent me to a local hospital. I was admitted by 10:30 a.m., wheeled into surgery at 4:00 p.m., and was back in my room by 7:30, failing at my attempts to sleep off the anesthesia; the nurses waking me up every two hours to take my temperature and blood pressure didn't help.
The next day the pain from the surgery was so bad that I couldn't stand up straight. The nurses insisted I walk up and down the hallway, so I did so bent over and using the IV pole for support. That afternoon they moved me into another room where my new roommate was recuperating after being treated for a gunshot wound to the abdomen; he said he was cleaning his pistol and thought it wasn't loaded. That night a friend called to see how I was doing, and before long I found myself, my friend, and my new roommate laughing hysterically at whatever turn the conversation had taken. I was doubled over in pain from the surgery, but I honestly can't remember ever laughing that hard again in my life. The next day I woke up and felt no pain whatsoever, so I got out of bed, walked to the nurse's station, and asked if that was normal. The head nurse remarked that she'd never seen anything like it, but suggested I return to my bed. 20 minutes later the surgeon paid me a visit, inspected the wound, shrugged, and instructed the nurses to send me home. He also told me that my appendix was so inflamed that it would probably have burst if they'd scheduled my surgery 30 minutes later.
The saying "Laughter is the best medicine" was certainly true in my case, but I can't say I'd recommend it as recovery therapy for everyone recovering from surgery; the surgeon was surprised my stitches hadn't popped.