Appendectomy Americana

My recent business trip to Baltimore and New York took in an interesting attraction not typically listed in tourist guide books to NYC - Lenox Hill Hospital off Lexington Avenue. Whilst at a trade show in Baltimore two weeks ago, I developed a sore tumbly, which didn't shift. I figured it would pass in a few days. After a few days, I figured I just needed to run. Conveniently there was Central Park and my physio had given me a green light to try out my new running shoes, so off I hopped to lap this famous park. The groin injury seemed to be gone but the old tum still wasn't right. The following day (Saturday), it was even worse so I called the insurance guys back in the UK for some advice. Long story short, Dr Weinberg visited my hotel, diagnosed appendicitis, prescribed surgery, ruled out flying home the next day and charged me $300 for my troubles.

So, instead of sipping cocktails atop a skyscraper as we had done the previous night, I found myself in a live episode of ER/Scrubs/House... for five days. I'll give them their dues, they sure don't mess about in American hospitals. Forget three-month waiting lists for CT scans. I had one within hours and was under the knife by midnight. Recovery didn't quite go to plan. Or maybe Dr Dolgopovo had given me false expectations. As it was key hole surgery I had a fly-ban for seven days. It also meant they had messed around with my insides loads trying to find the angry appendix (or at least that is what I imagine happened). Understandably my family were out of their heads with worry - I was on the phone, high as a kite on drugs and not getting better. So my twin sister flew in to kick ass and rescue me (Have I mentioned before in this blog how lucky I am to have a twin?)

I was eventually discharged on Thursday having had my fill off trip-inducing drugs, surly nurses (ok, some were brilliant but others less so) and truly awful hospital food - who wants mac & cheese when you've had abdominal surgery?? Fifi and I then killed time in the Big Apple for a few days until I was allowed to fly again.

Poor Scott has been worried sick and had to look after His Highness Horatio for two weeks. I hardly recognised HHH he's grown so much. Thankfully I think he still remembers me, or at least he remembers how much he likes to chew my shoes and ankles. Some things never change. To celebrate my return we hung out at the beach yesterday.
Very happy to be home and promise to try not to get into anymore trouble - this year at least!