I was helped onto a gurney at the hospital, but unfortunately, due to an onslaught of incoming patients, I waited endlessly in the hallway. My stomach looked and felt as if it might explode. Jon frantically tried to explain to the attending doctor that my normally flat belly was now grotesquely distended. Consequently, after enduring an exhaustive exam, I was told a general surgeon would be called into the hospital for consultation, and it was likely they would be prepping me for exploratory surgery very shortly.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, comforted little by a dose of morphine, Jon was left to answer rapid-fire questions in the doctor's quest to alleviate the source of my agony. Finally it was decided that I should first have an ultrasound done, and all I remember is hearing the OB/GYN resident whisper repeatedly, "Oh my . . . oh my . . ." Even in my delirious haze, I could tell from the look on the faces surrounding me that something was wrong, very wrong.