Many years ago, I woke up and felt a sharp pain intermittent in my belly and tried to ignore it for a few hours. It would come and go and wasn’t very long in duration. I got up, showered and went into work, where my co-worker said, “You don’t look so great.” Thinking I’d burn a sick day, I called the dr and made an appointment for later that morning.
Went to the drs. where he did some poking and prodding, “You don’t have appendicitis, but I don’t know what’s wrong. Get some bloodwork done next door at the lab, then go have a CT scan.” I went to the lab, had blood drawn, had the CT Scan and went home. Pain still happening on and off.
I’d just walked through the front door, when the phone rang–it was the dr. telling me that my white blood count was high, and he wanted me to go to the ER.
Went to the ER (“My dr. said he sent paper work over–my WBC was high.”) and they decided to do an ultrasound. It’s early evening at this point, and my belly is getting bigger and bigger. I’m still wearing my shorts under my hospital gown and I can’t get them snapped or zipped like I could that morning. The ER doc comes into my hospital room and tells me that they THINK there’s a tumor in my abdomen (uterus) that “might” be bleeding and they want to operate. I agree and they take me in within the hour.
Come to find out, the tumor had burst and my belly was filling with blood. They ended up doing a complete hysterectomy.
Through this all, I was completely and utterly calm. I remember knowing I was dying, and being totally cool about it.