I’m out of the hospital from having my appendix yanked out. I’ll explain more once I’m able to make a longer post, but thanks to everyone who kept me in their prayers.

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I’m out of the hospital from having my appendix yanked out. I’ll explain more once I’m able to make a longer post, but thanks to everyone who kept me in their prayers.

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\ UM- That sure was a roller coaster, dear lord! \
Namjoom appendicitis?
Thanks for the request! <3 I hope you like it! I've got two other sick Namjoon requests completed which I'll be posting today as well. I managed to get so much writing done yesterday and I'm excited to share it all!
Pairing: Namjin (platonic intentions but read as you want) || ft. rest of the member briefly
Words: 2570
Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Illness || Appendicitis || Fever || ER Trip || Hospital Admission || Mentions of surgery/scaring || Slight angst
@sightunlockedwood
Brows furrowed for a moment before Lucy's eyes flew open an urgency pushing her out of bed even as she crumbled slightly to the side. Never before had she been so thankful for the fact that the attic came with its own washroom. In 15 seconds she was bent over the toilet heaving, sweat clinging to her forehead. The music student then laid there for a moment curled up and biting back groans as a hand clamped over her right side, as if holding onto the area hard enough would in anyway get rid of the pain.
Lucy had been up late working last night before she began to feel a bit unwell figuring that it was simple exhaustion leaving her so unsettled. Now she was sure that what she was doing was simply dying. She'd never felt so sweaty before thanking god that she had the hindsight not to sleep in long sleeves for once. She'd only been living in 35 Portland Row for a week. A singular week, this house was still new leaving her on edge, her roommates strangers, her bed not yet feeling like her own. She wanted to be home, wherever home was she wanted to be there instead. She was scared, so scared tears beading up in her eyes whether from the pain, the fear of the pain or the sorrow she was not sure.
Grabbing onto the wall Lucy pulled herself up the movement sending an excruciation shock of pain through her right side. Note to self she decided, do not reach upwards. Even bent over as she was, as long as she was on her feet and could make it down the stairs then she had a chance.
She finally got to the stairs one folded over and pained step at a time only to see and remember that the staircase had no banister. "Fucking hell." Lucy whispered to herself followed quickly by a groan. Dragging in a singular breath she clung to the wall the best she could, using her bare feet as traction. Once she was at the landing door slamming open and met with more stairs the brunette began to feel herself giving up, it just seemed too impossible. Maybe dying would be fine, but god she wanted to live, she had no idea what was happening and she wanted to live. Clinging to each bannister on her way down the pain sharpening and radiating at a greater rate she began calling out for her housemates with abandon. "George, Lockwood!" "PLEASE." "LOCKWOOD." "GEORGE." "HELP ME."
It kept her mind occupied as she finally reached the end choosing to finally crumble forward as she'd dreamed of with a groan, tightening her hold around her waist, head pressing to the floor, sweat slicking her skin, she once again contemplated just giving up if they didn't come to her fast enough. Still she continued to repeat her calls yo-yoing between quieter and groans and louder with added pleas for help. It was unbearable, it was too unbearable, every movement just getting down the stairs left her near ready to black out from the heightened pain. "Please." She cried mournfully trying to hold herself tighter.
The Aftershock
My grandfather, age 90, had surgery today. You don't think of elderly people having appendicitis. You just don't. Or, more accurately, I didn't.
I take care of him. Along with my aunt, we keep him taken care of. Fed, watered, helped to the bathroom, meds taken (he is surprisingly healthy, taking only 3 prescription medications at 90? I WISH I were that healthy at 24!), oxygen monitored, John Wayne on the television. The necessities.
Over the past week, he hadn't been well. He wouldn't eat. Wouldn't drink at the beginning, but then again he is usually so stubborn he won't without being forced. Wouldn't pass any fluids or solids, if you catch my drift. No fever. Just complained of a pain in his stomach, which he only told us was a level 5.
Finally, after 6 days of messing with this, he let is call the ambulance. One ambulance ride, bloodwork, an x-ray, more bloodwork, and a CAT Scan later, we were rushing to another hospital. Our hospital have is very little reason to believe he would make it through.
I hopped in a car with my cousin and chased the ambulance two hours away to a much larger hospital in Loveland, Colorado. I couldn't leave him all alone, without me, in a strange city. Within an hour of my cousin and I showing up, they were ready to operate.
Prior to surgery, they drained 1.5 containers of fluid out of his stomach via a nasal/stomach tube. The exact words out of the nurse's mouth were "HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THAT! We need a second bucket! No really, look!" All the prune juice, tomato juice, and a nonsensical amount of water (which he finally wanted as soon as he couldn't have) make for a smoothie of awful. After a short amount of time, he said he felt much better. The fluids we had forced him to drink under the assumption of helping him had hindered him.
He looked a million times better already. Tired, but more hopeful. Through it all, the worst thing he said about how he felt was, when asked by our favorite paramedic back home in Nebraska how he felt, "like crap." What he said was only pain level 5, a tummy ache, turned out to be freaking appendicitis. I never thought about the symptoms presenting differently in the elderly. Not once.
His surgeons told us that he had a perforated appendix, that there was an abscess, that it "looked like a war zone in there." When I met his surgeon, I knew I liked him, but when he told me Grandpa made it through with flying colors, only to have to be on a ventilator over night... I can't describe it. The relief I felt, I felt like maybe he was telling me only what I wanted to hear. That wonderful man had saved Grandpa. I'm sitting here, hours later, in my college roommate's apartment that she shares with her partners. I can't sleep. As soon as she left the room, I cried. I can't sleep knowing that, holy crap, my grandpa pulled through. They didn't have to honor his DNR.
My grandpa, the toughest man I have ever known, the person I am named after, my best friend in the world, made it. I can't sleep. I feel like I should be there. I should have stayed in the hospital, even though they want him to have as little stimulation as possible right now, I should have slept in the lobby. Instead, I laughed with my friend and her partners for 2 hours before I passed out after crying. I can't sleep now. Not that I slept well before. But now I can't. I had 3 hours of sleep. I have to sort this out. I wasn't ready to say goodbye, exactly, but I didn't expect that he would live through. He is one tough, stubborn Missouri-bred mule. I wouldn't change that for anything.

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