flashback

Since we are studying infections, inflammation, appendicitis and other unpleasant subjects in nursing school these days, I thought I would share a 'blast from the past' article from a previous edition of the Barry Mountain newspaper.

ANDREW BARRY LOSES APPENDIX 

(from the Woolgatherer Issue of November-December 2010)

On the morning of Saturday, November 20, Andrew Barry woke early and shot the first deer of the season, a small doe. “Goat sized” said witnesses. With the aid of loyal sisters, he transferred the deer from forest to freezer. 

As the day progressed he began to feel sick. The nausea was soon accentuated by stomach cramps. In the late afternoon he took a nap on the floor. He woke to worse pains and continued nausea. We shall pass lightly over the gorier details to arrive at the moment of crisis. It was a bit after nine o’clock in the evening when Andrew, who had gone to bed hoping to sleep off whatever was bothering him, made his precipitous reappearance. There had been a certain amount of yelling going on all evening, but Kate had gone to bed anyway. After the initial chaos had quieted she drifted off to sleep. After twenty minutes or so, she was annoyed to hear it starting up again. She came out to see what was going on. “I went out and I asked, “Is this a fake or is this real? And a bunch of people said, ‘It’s real.” 

The general consensus was to take Andrew to the ER but first to call the parents to inform them of the plan. When Father was called he elected to come home directly and make the drive himself. He said later, “I amazed both my family and myself by how promptly I responded to Andrew’s ailment.”

Upon arrival at the ER, a nurse, seeing how Andrew was being more or less dragged along by Kate and Emily, offered the use of a wheelchair, but Andrew, still coherent, declined. Upon arrival at the hospital room, re- hydration salts, anti nausea medicine and pain killer were immediately administered through an IV by a competent nurse. Emily was impressed; Kate was not. “They’re supposed to shut the door before they do anything,” she said. “You’re supposed to have complete privacy.” The minutes ticked by slowly. The pain killer was finally beginning to act. The words “Buy my last pape, lady?” escaped from between his cracked lips. 

Dr. Mahony, a long haired Gators fan, arrived and recommended a CAT scan. Surprisingly, Father agreed. When the radiologists wheeled Andrew back into his room, Dr. Mahony returned and recommended another CAT scan, this one facilitated with a dye meant to color the innards and make them more readily visible. Kate et al were a little miffed. We opted to summon Dr. Edmisten, the expert surgeon, for a more educated opinion. He arrived a little before two AM, and within minutes he had examined, diagnosed, and prescribed immediate surgery. “You could tell he was a real fundi as soon as he came in,” said Kate, finally impressed. 

Dr. Edmisten performed the surgery, a routine appendectomy, sometime in the wee hours of Sunday morning, while Father, Kate, Emily and Andrew all slumbered peacefully. The next morning a contingent of Barrys and hangers on dropped by the hospital to leave him with get well wishes and a cheerful balloon. Andrew, though longer and leaner than he once was, is making a rapid recovery. When asked to elaborate on his experiences in the ER, Andrew declined to comment. He has not gone hunting since the appendix incident, but is expected to do so before Christmas. 

submitted by ERB (now Emily Lightner)