Dear family and friends,
Sorry about not writing the past couple of weeks. I have a good reason. Ready?
So general conference weekend I started feeling really sick and stayed in bed for a week. My stomach hurt really bad and I could barely even drink anything without puking. The mission doctor and the mission president's wife said that it's definitely not apendicitis because my pain was all on the left side. At transfer meeting I just laid on the ground because it hurt so bad. So I got sent to the emergency room where they said it was either a kidney infection or an STD (we can probably rule that one out) and sent me home with some antibiotics. It got better for maybe 2 days (enough for me to watch Meet the Mormons with the mission! EVERYONE GO SEE IT RIGHT NOW) and then it got way worse. My poor companion went on splits with every sister in the zone. But I still toughed it out and made it to the L. Tom Perry fireside down in south man. I got to meet him and shake his hand! He told Sister Alexander "Take care of Sister Hall now". Apostolic revelation that I was sick? Or lack of makeup and pale face? Finally I got permission to go to a normal doctor. But the night before I got a really high fever and the pain was worse than it had ever been and it shifted. I woke up the next morning to my mom calling to tell me which doctor takes our insurance and that I have an appointment at 1 p.m.
Then it gets interesting. I tried to shower. Hardest thing of my life. I sat down on the couch for 20 minutes trying to recover. Then we left. The doctors office was two trains away. Okay Hall you can do this. Just make it up the giant hill to the train stop. I was going so slow and hunched over that everyone was giving us weird looks. Yes we made it to the train. Get on the train and almost hurl everywhere. Horrified looks from everyone in the train and everybody's looking at you. We get off at 145th to transfer to the next train and I just fall on the ground and sit down on the steps and hurl my guts out. Sitting on the floor in the subway puking. Graceful. Good thing my companion was smart enough to bring a puke bag, which she then nicely threw away for me. #charity We finally give up on trains and decide to call a cab. Of course we get in the sketchiest one, but we made it to the doctor's office alive. Kind of. I ran in the bathroom and started ralphing and apparently the receptionists were super freaked out. Sorry. We get back to talk to the doctor and I start blowing chunks right in her office (in the trash can no worries). She freaks out and sends us to the emergency room. She offered us an ambulance but we declined. #regrets So they call us a cab and right when we get in my companion says to the cab driver "So, there's going to be puking back here, but she's got a bag." Poor guy. We made it to the ER, they put me in a bed, ran some tests (CT contrast is gross), gave me some morphine ("Morphine! That's what they gave the guy in Saving Private Ryan right before he died!") and then I sat there and waited and waited and waited. But we got to talk to some interesting citizens of the Bronx (the guy next to me tried to go buy morphine off my nurse, popped like 10 800 ibuprofen and then snuck outside to smoke a blunt #kitehigh)
Finally the surgeon came down and said "You had appendicitis and your appendix ruptured". I don't know if it was the morphine or the fact that everyone had been telling me that that's not what it is for the past two weeks or that I was laying in a hospital in the middle of the Bronx, but I lost it. "Wait, really?" I burst into hysterical laughter. It was ridiculous. I couldn't stop. Everyone in the ER looked at me like I was crazy and Sister Alexander told me to stop, but it was so funny. I composed myself enough to ask "So, can I eat a hamburger?" That got shut down pretty fast. Only poopy jello and liquids they said. So then I got admitted and got some good stuff (IV antibiotics) and laid in bed and got poked every five minutes. The surgeon came back the next morning and was super surprised how well I was doing so he let me eat a muffin. Then another surgeon came down and asked me what I had eaten. "Juice, jello, and a muffin" "A muffin? Is that juice?" We stared at each other awkwardly and I just said "umsjskncbshlaknd..." Whoops. But after that he let me eat big kid food, like a giant bodega sandwich! Then they let me leave
Saturday afternoon and we went and spent the night at the first counselor of the mission presidency's house. We basically just hung out with their six-year-old twins and watched FROZEN! Yeah. Seen it. President Morgan said I could. So let it go. Not as good as Tangled, but still love it and sing the songs all the time now.
When President Morgan got back from mission presidents seminar he came and picked us up and we had a real serious interview about my options. We ultimately decided that I wasn't leaving and I would get right back to normal missionary work, which I did and I'm doing awesome. I'll get my appendix out in 6-8 weeks and stay at the mission home while I recover and eat President Morgan's homemade grilled cheese sandwiches. Not a bad deal.
And that's my story. Maybe Heavenly Father wanted to make me more grateful for my mission and for functioning organs in general. Well it worked. I'm super excited to get back to work and kill it here in The Heights! I really do consider this a miracle and I'm so grateful for the protection and health that God gave me.
I love you all! Thanks for the prayers and the support!
Hermana Hall
