It’s been a while, I know, but I think I have an excuse.
Last Wednesday, Mary Kate came over to visit. We spent an awesome few days in Galway, where she got to meet all my Irish and new American friends. Then we came to Dublin on Sunday to meet my parents and brother who are going to travel out the next two weeks with me until we all go home.
Spoiler alert: This does not go as planned.
I was not feeling very well these last few days, so my mother, being my mother, took me to the A&E (the Irish ER) on Wednesday.
We had to go to a doctor first. But after verifying that I’m not pregnant – thanks for that, Doc – he sent us to the hospital.
After lots of tests – including another non-pregnancy evaluation (Seriously guys?) – they took me to “theatre” around 11 p.m. No, that doesn’t mean we all went out for a nice night on the town. They call the operating room the “theatre.”
I was back in a ward by midnight, minus the appendix.
My brother Mike was a real sport, brandishing the camera at me in my glamorously drugged state.
Anyway, I’m out of the hospital now and back in the hotel with the family. We pack up and finally move on to Galway tomorrow. Partay!
P.S. Healthcare over here is incredible!
Apparently the trick to the A&E is going to the doctor first. Without a doctor’s note, the wait in the ER is somewhere around 14 hours. Yikes.
But with the doctor’s note (which read something like “She’s not pregnant, so I dunno”), we were seen within 2 hours by a doctor and then a surgeon who looked more like an actor than a doctor. (Mom assured me it wasn’t just the drugs, he really was Hollywood-esque.)
And the nurses were incredible, too. More like mommies! Especially for that 2-hour period in which my own mother was M.I.A. She claims she was never notified that I had been moved from the A&E to a ward. Suuuure.