By Lisa Hansen-Pereira

The morning of Thursday, February 6th started out normally, with no indication of the drama that was to unfold in a matter of hours. I woke up, assessed the downpour outside, and opted for an indoor jog on the treadmill. I ate my normal uber-healthy breakfast, showered, and finished packing for the five-hour drive I was about to make from our home in Bayside to a three-day continuing education conference in Napa. Shortly after the shower, I noticed my long-dormant stomach ulcer appeared to be acting up. As I got on the road with our daughter, who was attending the conference with me, we stopped at the Eureka Co-Op to grab some supplies to quell the presumed stomach acid.

As we made our way south on 101 through the storm, my daughter sat in the passenger seat, providing me with a running update on her college classes, her boyfriend, and her career objectives. Meanwhile the pain began spreading into my chest, neck, and left arm. Roughly 90 minutes into the drive, when the thought crossed my mind that I might pass out, I pulled the truck off the road, and from my hunched over position at the wheel, asked my daughter if she had cell reception enough to Google if stomach pain could be an indication of heart attack. Sure enough, it turns out it could. At that point, my daughter reassessed the situation. She swapped positions with me, whipped the truck around, and proceeded back up 101 at Mach speed in the storm. Despite being curled into a ball in the passenger seat, I had enough wherewithal to think, at this speed, if this isn’t a heart attack, it will likely become one.

We made good time to Redwood Memorial’s ER, where I proceeded to sit for two hours, still curled in a tight ball, in a near empty waiting room, growing progressively worse, with the pain intensifying to an 8 out of 10 and now vomiting. The security guard in the ER was a gem, bringing me warm blankets. After numerous check-ins at the ER window and eventually learning an ambulance had arrived in the meantime, my daughter made some calls to other local ERs, got me back in the truck, and headed for Mad River Hospital.

Despite a bit of a crowd in the Mad River ER waiting room, an astute triage nurse assessed me in my near non-responsive state and quickly got me into a bed. After some diagnostics and imaging, I was surprised to learn I had “acute appendicitis,” despite the pain never presenting in my lower right abdomen — the traditional hallmark for appendicitis.

The team in the ER, with the help of some morphine and IV fluids, got me more comfortable and transferred to Med-Surg late that evening. The surgeon on call was consulted and surgery was planned for first thing the following morning. Through many more doses of morphine, the Med-Surg nursing team worked diligently to keep me comfortable and monitored through the night.

The next morning, in a pre-op consult, the surgeon let me know she may need to take an ovary and part of my intestine due to adhesions presenting on the imaging. I was then wheeled into surgery with a spunky surgery crew and some good tunes, and the last thing I remember was saying goodnight to Phil, the anesthesiology nurse.

Surgery went well. The surgeon, Dr. Gunsberger, having completed more than 1,000 appendectomies, was able to save the ovary and the intestine. I was discharged the following day.

I cannot say enough about the positive experience I had at Mad River. The ER team and the Med-Surg team were both amazing. I would like to extend a heart-felt thank you to all of the medical professionals who helped me during my three-day stay, some of whom I managed to remember by name — Alicia and James, my night nurses, Stephanie my day nurse, Ben the savvy phlebotomist who drew blood in the wee hours before my surgery and barely woke me, Sean the imaging tech, Phil from anesthesia, and of course Dr. Tanja Gunsberger, my talented surgeon.

Dr. Gunsberger is on a one-year contract with Mad River — two months on, two months back at her teaching position in Arizona. She left four days after my surgery to return to Arizona. While in recovery, I asked her why she chose Humboldt County. She replied that she loves rural medicine, in part because the patients are so grateful. I wholeheartedly concur.

Lisa Hansen-Pereira is a Bayside resident.