Livin' La Vida Extreme

Livin' La Via Extreme. No, I'm not talking about Ricky Martin shaking his bon bon in my direction; though that would be nice. Nor am I talking about extreme sports, fitness or challenges.

I'm talking extreme living of the roller coaster kind. High peaks and low valleys punctuated by the daily grind. Yes, life this past year has been anything but boring and bland. It's been a study in extremes.

Sure, there have been tedious moments or the routine of getting up in the morning, stumbling down the stairs to feed the dogs and cats and pour my coffee all without killing them or myself in the process. Of course, there's the usual bill paying stuff and grocery shopping, but it's all been a bit more tweaked, more fine-tuned; as if a filter of higher sensitivity has been placed in our living module, thus affording us a bit more awareness.

Unlike life before November of last year, life now has simply been . . . well, more lived, more deeply felt. Not sure if it's the state of the economy, the way I've been perceiving life in general, getting older, or a combination of those things plus other things I'm not yet seeing.

Example: Just a few short days ago I was battling the feelings of riding high from having completed a project, while at the same time, also dealing with the shortsightedness of time and other technical issues. Then, when I was getting ready to write about the things I'd learned this past year, something happened that will help me illustrate the sharp contrast of extremes which has been life as of late.

Tuesday morning about 3 or 4 a.m., I woke up to go to the bathroom and became aware of a dull stabbing in my right side; just under my ribcage. I thought nothing of it. I figured I either had not drank enough water, was constipated, or I ate something that didn't agree with me.

But when I got up several hours later and the feeling had not intensified, but spread to the left side, I began to wonder. I thought I would call in sick but didn't feel right doing it since I was off two days just last week. I talked to Niko about the symptoms and we both agreed I was probably just constipated; it had happened once before and the feelings had been similar.

So, off to work I went; it was about 8:30.

I mentioned it to my Boss when I got to the office a few minutes later. He asked if I still had my appendix. Which I did.

As I tried settling into the day, the sensation grew progressively worse; in fact, it felt as if my insides were on fire. Portions of my intestines felt as if someone were playing a wild Moroccan tune, undulating and bubbling.

Somehow, I managed to walk home after dismissing myself for the day at just after 9 a.m.

Reduced to near tears, with a low fever, and feeling as if I was going to pass out, I realized, this was no ordinary sensation. Something was wrong. I just didn't know what. I tried to calm myself down by focusing only on the moment; but guess what? Focusing on the present, the right here and how is NOT a good idea when what you are experiencing is pain.

Armed with my heating pad, my cell phone, and our three pugs to help keep me warm, I made my way upstairs where I collapsed, with my clothes on, to see if the sensation would subside.

But the heating pad didn't help. In fact it only made matters worse. I called my doctor's office to see if they had any answers to my questions. The voice on the phone . . . MJ? DJ? PJ? . . . said he was no doctor but it sounded as if I needed to go to the hospital. However, he had an opening at 11:30 with my PA, if I wanted it. And a part of me did.

But by the time Niko got home, just after 10:00, I knew that I would not be seeing Dan Brown or anyone else at the Doctor's Office. It was the Hospital ER for me and I knew it. There was no point in fighting it.

My awareness continued to slip from there, due to the pain I was in. I barely remember us getting to the hospital. Somehow I lasted the wait in ER but didn't last 5 minutes in Triage when I threw up after drinking Crystal Light with contrast; the nurse and doctor on duty wanted me to drink the stuff since they thought a Cat Scan was in order.

I won't bore you with the rest because, frankly, I'm not sure I remember much about it. Somewhere along the line I was given morphine for the pain. And some time around 4:00 in the afternoon, or thereafter, after two doses of morphine, two bottles of Crystal Light with contrast, kept down with some anti-naseua stuff (Klonopin maybe?), I had the Cat Scan and was dutifully informed that I was going to be prepped for a laprascopic appendectomy.

By that point, I was riding the morphine drip. He could have told me I was about to be gored by a rhino; I wouldn't have cared.

I was rushed through surgery and before long, found myself waking in a hospital room as if no time had passed.

And now, here I am, at home, released from Broward General yesterday about 4:30 p.m. I have an incision in my belly button, one to the left of it, another to the right. I'm uncomfortable, but nothing compared to what I felt Tuesday. In fact, I'm quite fine if I don't feel anything extreme for a few more days at least!

The light in the room is waning, the ceiling fan is whirring softly and outside I think rain has begun to patter on the leaves in the trees. The dogs are surrounding me and the effect of a Percoset is still trying to claim me so I think I'll leave now and coast for a few hours. Yes. I will be content laying in the valley of a low moment while somewhere outside, I'm sure, another extreme moment awaits me.