3:28 p.m. | 2002-09-02 My Most Unusual Birthday. My most unusual birthday was August 30, 1982, when I turned 18. I was on my own after my father moved to another country (country, not county) as soon as I graduated high school in June of that year. My mother had remarried 2 years prior and moved away with my younger sister to live with my new stepfather and his 3 children. One of my older sisters had married and had a child, and I was living, briefly, with my other older sister. On the day before, I started having chest pains. I had never had heartburn before and thought perhaps that�s what it was. As the pain increased, I now understood why people complained so much about heartburn. My neighbor gave me some Rolaids. When that failed to bring any relief, she told me to drink baking soda and water. In addition to being gross, that remedy also failed. When I could no longer stand up straight and the pain was overwhelming, I stumbled over to my neighbor�s and asked her to drive me to the emergency room (my sister was at work). I was 17 years old when I entered the emergency room. I lived in a very small, hick town at the time, so the hospital wasn�t a state of the art medical facility. At all. While they were trying to figure out what was wrong with me, I did something I have never done before or since� I started screaming, yelling and howling. By now, the pain was incredible and I was dying of thirst. They would not give me the two things I wanted the most: pain medication and water. Nada, nothing, zilch. They said they had to figure out what was wrong first. They ran every test they were capable of (I�m still suspicious about that pelvic exam, by the way, and hospital heartburn medicine is one of the grossest things I�ve ever drank), and they still couldn�t make a certain diagnosis. Finally they decided that I either had a perforated ulcer or an internal infection. They told me they could give me antibiotics which would cure an infection, however, if it was a perforated ulcer and they didn�t operate right away, I would die. Well, you know I tend to be prudent so I went with the operation. They finally gave me some pain medication (no water though), prepped me and wheeled me into the operating room. I turned 18 while they were cutting me open on the operating table. The doctor discovered I had an infection in my pancreas, so since he had already cut me open, he put a hole in my side and installed a drain hose to help speed my recovery. I spent 9 days in the hospital, made a great recovery and got the hell outta there. Now, here are some interesting tidbits about the whole deal. My sister was at the hospital and they told her everything that was going on until I ceased being a minor on the operating table. Hence, when I came out of surgery, they would only tell me what was going on. However, I was very hopped up on Demerol so I had no idea what they were talking about and forgot everything they said as they were saying it. The only thing I remember them saying was that I couldn�t have any water. My sister tried to find out my condition by asking me which was quite hilarious. Well, at least to me. My sister looked like she wanted to strike me. My surgeon (who did a fantastic job) was a geriatric surgeon and was very, very upset that he had to cut open the front of a young lady thereby leaving a scar that runs from right below my bust line down to my belly button. He was sure I was going to be devastated because I wouldn�t be able to wear a bikini anymore. I reassured him that I didn�t give one hoot about any scar and, if I wanted to wear a bikini, I would. (I did sometimes wear a bikini and I sometimes still do. And, I still don�t give one hoot about any of my scars.) No one has ever figured out why I had an infection in my pancreas. Before leaving the country, my father informed me that he had removed me from his medical insurance. I am still very grateful that I was able to obtain state medical aid to cover the whole thing. I immediately went off that medical aid after my last follow up visit to the doctor. (I always thought state aid � of any form � was for emergencies or chronic disabilities and the like; I had no idea that people actually lived on aid for generation after generation. Obviously, I was young and na�ve.) My hospital bill was around $10,000. (Remember that was 20 years ago.) To help drain gunk out, they shoved a hose up my nose, down the back of my throat and to my stomach. Don�t ever let anyone do that to you if you can help it. I watched The Graduate for the first time while lying in my hospital bed hopped up on Demerol. It didn�t make any sense to me at all. (I�ve seen it since then and it makes more sense when you�re not drugged up.) I received flowers for the first time. As a gift, my sister gave me a huge drinking mug while I was forbidden to drink water. (She has a pesky little mean streak which she likes to pretend is a humorous streak.) I still have that mug and it�s still not funny. It felt very, very odd when they pulled the drain hose outta my side. (I have a scar there too, just for the record.) It�s not a birthday I will ever forget, however, I don�t really remember it. your thoughts? seed flower