I spent the morning after my surgery in a lucid state. I could not tell if the conversation with my mom had actually happened. That is, until the doctor came in and confirmed that I had two holes in my small intestine, which they cut about 5 inches of along with my appendix. I had bandages all along my belly. I believed those were the only things keeping me together. Imagine my surprise when the doctor asked to remove them. Under those bandages, I saw 43 staples (I counted later) in my gut, where I have a large scar today. After the doctor left, I remained alone in my bed. They placed me on a clear liquid diet, so I could only drink water and 7up. I couldn't complain; I did not have an appetite.

I was in the hospital for five days. If you have ever been in the hospital, then you know that five days in a hospital is a really long time. My parents kept me company for a while, but could only stay so long. I had to spend many hours alone, watching TV, feeling crushing boredom

The longer I stayed, the less I slept. The first night went well, except for the times when the nurses came to take my vitals. I remember on the second night, when the nurse left a side light on, and I could not sleep at all for that reason. Why couldn't I just get up and turn it off?

Well, for at least the first three days, I could not walk. In my opinion, this was one of the worst parts of the whole thing. I would see my father pacing and I would think, "I really want to do that right now." I walked slowly for very short spans of time. My wound would burn the entire time.

I went home on Wednesday, but I did not go straight back to school: my immune system was not strong enough yet. So I went home instead. They did not remove the staples yet, by the way. They would be taken out about three weeks after I left the hospital: right when my spring break started. My break was not very fun, however, because I used it to do makeup work for the classes I missed.

I wish I could say that my struggle ended when the doctors removed my staples, but that is untrue. A couple of weeks into the new school term, the pain began to flare up again in the exact spot it did before the surgery. I became terrified but after a discussion with doctors, I learned that the pain was only a result of scarring pain. The pain kept me from running or exercising. I also could not lift anything over fifteen pounds for fear of having a hernia.

These were only physical effects of the surgery. The fact that I had nearly died affected my mind as well. I had difficulty conceiving the fact that I had nearly died. Recovering from the surgery made me feel accomplished. Normally this would be considered a good thing, but it made me feel as though my life should change. Yet, everything else in my life remained the same; I was the only one that changed. "Is this all there is?" I thought. Did I recover from surgery, relearn how to walk and lose five inches of my intestine just for things to come back to normal? In addition, I feared that something worse would happen to me soon. I felt another near-death experience around every corner.

It took a lot of time to overcome some of my pain. Some effects of the surgery have yet to be seen. It was said that the scar would take a year to fully recover. I still have a month before that happens.