So, your tummy starts hurting a little bit on Sunday. You don’t sleep much, but you get up and head to St. Louis for a day of meetings.
Your tummy hurts a little more. You sleep a little less.
Tuesday you go see the doc at the urging of your mother. Yes, even though you’re almost 40, you still listen to your mother.
Good boy.
After a day’s worth of needles, barium shakes, CT scans, and one gloved finger you don’t really want to discuss, you find out you have something called diverticulitis – which is painful as heck but can at least be treated over ten days with antibiotics if you don’t mind the nausea.
So, the good news? You don’t need to have your appendix removed. The bad news? You have something called diverticulitis.
I thought a lot about this last night as I wasn’t sleeping.
And I think I’d be less bothered by it if were named ‘puppies’ or ‘frisbee’ or something fun.
That said, there were about forty others in the CT lab waiting room yesterday at Boone Hospital (thanks for the free WiFi!), and they all appeared to be in various stages of ‘worse’ and ‘off’ than me. I have an old friend – same age as me – who’s about to leave us forever after a long battle with breast cancer.
Life is short. I have no problems – only lessons and the occasional discomforting inconvenience.
My family’s home after 11 days away. I’m not recovering from surgery today. I’ve gotten to talk to my mama several times in the last couple days.
And I learned the next time I get to name something – in sickness or health – I’m not going to name it something scary.
Words matter – for better and worse. Why not pick a few to give someone hope, encouragement, peace, or a little comfort today?
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