Kinsler: A hospital bed will accommodate two people

We knew that something was wrong when, in response to a standard nap attack one afternoon I staggered to our elderly sofa only to find it occupied by my beloved, plus one nurse cat and two security cats.  

Natalie does not and will not nap. Nights are for sleeping and days are for striving. But there she lay, flattened into near-invisibility. 

“My stomach hurts,” she said. 

Nothing in our combined repertoire of folk remedies helped, so we reported to our nearby urgent-care facility. Teresa, their lively PA, ruled that there was likely an infection, so she prescribed an all-purpose antibiotic, took lab samples, and sent us home with strict instructions to return if things didn't improve.

They did not. I changed the battery in our Kroger fever thermometer and with hard-won cooperation from The World's Worst Patient found that she was running a high fever. 

Next morning, July 4th, we returned to Teresa, who looked at Natalie's lab results, and then at Natalie. It is July 4th, she said. Our local emergency room is busy and short-staffed. There is a large emergency facility near Columbus. Get there. Now.

Which we did. The people at Diley Ridge did more tests and a CAT scan. Results: Natalie’s appendix had burst, and she had pneumonia. An ambulance would take her to Mount Carmel East hospital in Columbus while I followed, beyond terrified, in her new Honda.

Contrary to what we've all learned from historical dramas a burst appendix won't kill you right away, usually. The body--Natalie's, at least--has defenses which, with the antibiotic pills Teresa prescribed, saved Her Majesty to fight another day. 

We—both of us—stayed at the hospital for two days. No surgery was required, but they pumped in bag after bag of piperacillin, a ferocious antibiotic warranted to kill any microorganism up to and including small game.  

We are home. Natalie wonders why her life was spared and how she got so lucky.

"It wasn't you who got lucky," I replied. "It was me."

Mark Kinsler, kinsler33@gmail.com, is a science teacher from Cleveland Heights who lives in an old house in Lancaster with Natalie and a staff of professional cats who will not leave her side.