It all started on the third to the last day of school in 6th grade. I had been having bad stomach pains all day. When I got home from school I called my mom to tell her about it and her advice was Motrin and a nap. I honestly knew it was not going to help but I tried it anyway. When I had woken up 3 hours later, I felt like I had just been dropped in an ice bath. I was sweating a lot and the pains had gotten worse. I only had a fever of 101.6 at that point, but I felt really bad. I called my mom at work and asked her to take me to a doctor. At this point she thought that I had a stomach virus of some sort. When I got to the doctor, I was examined very briefly. "Does it hurt when I do this?" the doctor asked as she poked me in the stomach. "Owww... I already told you my stomach hurts." I replied. The doctor then plainly stated that I had appendicitis and I would have to get my appendix removed that night. My mom was relieved but I was not at all excited at the prospect of getting cut open.
             We drove to Frederick Hospital at about 9:00 pm, when my appointment was to see Dr. R. Again, there was a lot of poking me in the stomach and, "Does it hurt when I poke you here." I felt like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Dr. R was telling everyone in the room about how when you poke me on the left or the right side it hurts me, and followed with repeated demonstrations. After he got tired of his sadistic display, Dr. R called in a nurse to give me an I.V. I have always had a fear of needles and a problem with getting shots, especially in the region on the opposite side of my elbow. I asked if I could get the I.V. in another vein. "Sure," she replied, "Do you have any other really big veins on your arms?" I remembered that I had these gigantic veins on my forearms that I minded less about getting punctured. She said they would work and immediately strapped a tourniquet to my arm and started stabbing the one
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