(My name is pronounced as Klehng, not Kling)
This story is rather long, so I apologize in advance.
For context, I was a 19 year old female at the time this took place.
It all started with a stomach ache. I had eaten half of a half cooked pizza simply because I was too lazy and too hungry to wait for this boring cheese pizza to cook all the way. Less than a half hour after eating it, a stomach ache had set in. It was early morning in Texas and I had been talking to one of my friends on MSN messenger in Australia before eventually saying "Sorry man, I have a stomach ache, can I hit you up later?" He agreed and I laid down, staring up at the ceiling as the light shone in the blanketed window above my head. "I can't wait to take a shit" I idly thought, assuming my stomach issues were related to something mundanely digestive. Admittedly, I can handle physical pain really well, so for this to take effect so suddenly and so absolutely was worrisome, but I didn't ponder on it too much as I almost immediately fell asleep.
When I finally woke up, my boyfriend at the time, Randall, had arrived. I was confused. "Weren't you coming tomorrow?" I asked groggily, the ceiling light shining in my face as he knelt over me. "Uh, that was today." He said. I had slept for a whole day while in pain. Without even realizing it.
At the time I was 19, and had been living with my step-sister for almost a year. My boyfriend had come to visit and found me in this state without me even realizing it. "Sorry," I muttered "I guess I got food poisoning from the pizza." He asked if I needed anything, to which I responded in the negative.
Eventually I made my way to the bathroom and threw up, had diarrhea, and threw up again. Passing out in the bathroom floor with my head next to the toilet. My abdomen was on fire. This was relatively normal for my periods at this point, during which time I had realized I was bleeding, so didn't think much more of my condition. I think I had also made it into the shower and passed out again, because Randall was there asking me if I was ok. I answered in the affirmative, and eventually made my way out, dressed myself, and passed out again on the upstairs sofa next to where he was playing Borderlands on my Xbox. I remember continually insisting he could have the volume up louder than it was, but he wouldn't heighten it past 2 or 3, which if anyone remembers for old televisions, was very low. I had bouts of consciousness and unconsciousness, during which times he would almost force feed me sliced apples and pedialite mixed with Mountain Dew. I found this annoying and confusing, but also realized I hadn't eaten anything substantial during that time either, so complied with little combativeness.
What had to have been a day later, I made my way downstairs and began talking with my step-sister Melissa. She seemed worried by my absence, and even her normally hyper and large dog was refraining from jumping on me like she normally would. "You doing okay?" She asked as I sat on a chair at the kitchen table. "Yeah, I think so." I said, stroking Duchess, commenting on how she wasn't jumping on me. "Maybe she thought I died." I joked. "Yeah, maybe." Melissa chuckled, also petting Duchess and looking at her lovingly. We both have an enormous love for animals and regarded them highly when it came to their perceptions beyond those of humans. Melissa suggested eating some dry crackers before I went back upstairs, which I think I did before eventually making my way back up and back onto the sofa.
I can't recall who or when it was suggested, but eventually someone said I should go to a local clinic a few blocks away. I agreed, since the illness was, at this point, far beyond any sort of menstrual sickness I had experienced to date. Randall and my step-sister's husband took me there, during which time I puked apples and pedialite into a bedpan upon arrival into a private room, and was unable to provide any sort of necessary urine sample. Eventually the staff strongly suggested I go to the local ER because they suspected the issues were something kidney related.
My step-sister's husband was the one who took me straight from the clinic to the ER, during which time they again wanted a urine sample that I was unable to provide. Instead sitting in the waiting room for well over an hour. When it was my time to be called back, I couldn't even keep up with the nurse who was speed walking down the halls. She seemed flustered, and was in a hurry to get me into a hospital bed and take all my information such as height, weight, blood type, etc. When I'd finally made it into a bed and fallen asleep again, my boyfriend and some family had convened during that time. I was confused. Why were they here? "Your mom's on the way." Someone said, I can't recall who.
A lot of that time after is a huge blur. One by one my family was gathered around me, my mom, step dad (who I just called Dad), younger siblings, step sister and her husband, boyfriend, even step brother and his wife and their kids. I didn't understand. A nurse came to me and forced me to drink straight potassium. It was the most wretched thing I'd ever tasted and made me want to gag. I did gag. I threw up. I threw up when they tried to force me to swallow an entire morphine pill. I was in mild amounts of pain, and eventually they administered meds through an IV that had been inserted early into my visit.
Fast forward by maybe a week.
The first week of February. They learned that my appendix perforated. Not burst, but perforated. Creating a slow leak of feces into my abdomen, making my system septic and too toxic to even operate on, thus creating their current delimma. They needed to do emergency surgery to fix the perforation, cutting me open would certainly cause infection to set in and kill me, while doing nothing would also cause my body to shut down and kill me. They asked what I wanted to do, this I remember perfectly, since 3 of my 4 younger siblings were by my side at this point: "Give me some pain killers and antibiotics and I'll be fine." I said with pure confidence and assurance. I was 19 at this point, how could they deny me?
Week 2, I will be on dialysis for the rest of my life, assuming I live. The women in the Critical Care unit were equal parts kind and equal parts rude. I say this because at some point I was unable to make it to the toilet at the other side of my room, and had accidentally did a number two all over myself while on the way to it. To which they berated me about how I was too lazy to use the toilet, and made me clean my own self up, even though I was too weak to even WALK to the toilet to begin with. My kidneys had thankfully woken up, largely due to the pure potassium drinks. MRIs and CAT scans were daily at this point. I was sitting on the call button for morphine every 6 hours, just as means to cure the boredom, even when I wasn't in any real amounts of pain. There were 3 pockets of infection within my abdomen, which were being drained by sub-dermal tubes into suctioning bottles.
Week 3, I was out of the Critical Care unit and the antibiotics were now being administered orally, which I threw up every time and tried to express wouldn't work. Still sitting on the button to administer morphine, my mom had brought my PSP and Nintendo DSi with games to play, along with a fresh change of clothes and some cold cereal to eat, since the vegetable based hospital food wasn't doing it for me. I think some drama went down between my mom and my boyfriend's mom, but can't recall what, or even exactly when. Or even if it actually happened at all. I'd been sent home at some point during the third week, while orally taking the antibiotics, which I only threw up. Eventually seeing me back into the hospital before the end of the week, and back onto IV administered antibiotics and pain killers.
Week 4, I was finally improving. Both kidneys were awake and fully functional, infection was gone, scar tissue was visible but otherwise inconsequential. Had lost maybe around 20lbs at that point. There were no incisions ever made. I walked out of the hospital in the same clothes I walked in wearing.
For some side notes, when I had initially arrived at the hospital, the staff had told my family I was going to die, which was why they had all gathered. I should have died. I should have been on dialysis for the rest of my life if I did live because my kidneys had been shut down for days at that point. My family was totally supportive of me during this time, and I think it was their presence that gave me the strength to go forward. My mom and dad, my step sister, and my younger siblings who made me laugh even when it hurt to do so.tldr; appendix perforated, nearly died, should be on dialysis, lived with no strings attached.
(feel free to add/subtract/transmute anything you need. I know this is rather long and rambling)