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I awoke with a start, my body racked with pain like I’d never experienced, as if someone had lodged a white-hot poker in my gut and was twisting it mercilessly. I let out a groan, clutching my abdomen as a feverish heat radiated from my body. Even with the AC and the fan on and only wearing boxer briefs, I was sweating.
Santa mãe de Deus, what was going on? I hadn’t been feeling well for two days now, this nagging ache in my belly and a constant slight nausea. I’d figured I’d eaten something wrong or caught a stomach bug or something, but this was a whole new level of agony.
I forced myself to sit up, but a wave of dizziness almost knocked me back down. The pain hit again, and I dropped back on the bed, holding on to my belly. Jesus Cristo, everything hurt, but above all, my abdomen. What was this?
A door creaked, and I called out. “Tiago?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you come here for a sec?”
My brother walked in, his expression changing the second he saw me. “What’s wrong?”
Tiago’s voice echoed through the haze of pain, fear settling in the depths of his tone.
“My abdomen hurts,” I said between clenched teeth. “Something’s…not right.”
He put a hand on my clammy forehead. “You have a fever, I think, and you look terrible, all pale and sweaty. I’m calling Fir.”
He left no room for discussion. Not that I had the energy to protest. I wasn’t one to complain about bodily aches, but I’d never felt anything like this. This wasn’t some minor stomachache. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I needed help. Fast.
“Tell him to hurry,” I said, my chest tightening with panic.
Tiago sat on the bed next to me and took my hand, his phone in his other hand as he made the call, his hand trembling. “Fir? It’s Tiago. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday morning, but Tomás is sick. Very sick.”
“What are his symptoms?” Tiago had put his phone on speaker, and Fir’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Severe pain in his abdomen, and he has a fever. He looks awful.”
“Hang tight. I’m on my way.”
Fir didn’t wait for an answer but hung up.
“It hurts so bad.” I gripped the sheets for dear life as another wave of pain washed over me.
Tiago squeezed my hand. “Hang in there a little longer. Fir is on his way. I’m gonna open the front door for him, but then I’ll be right back, okay?”
My vision blurred, but I nodded, even that movement sending pain throughout my body. As I waited for Fir to arrive, I fought the pain. Tiago alerted Cas, who hovered in the background, looking as worried as my brother.
And then Fir walked in, looking more confident than I’d ever seen him, carrying a doctor’s bag. He set it on the floor and bent over me in my bed.
“Hey, Tomás.” He put a cool hand against my forehead. “Can you describe the pain for me? Is it dull, sharp, constant, or intermittent?”
I swallowed. “Sharp and throbbing. It was there yesterday, but more like a discomfort.”
“Are you nauseous?”
“A little. Not enough to throw up, but I haven’t eaten much the last two days. I thought I’d maybe eaten something wrong.”
He took out an ear thermometer and, with experienced movements, put on a new plastic cap. “I’m gonna take your temperature, okay?”
For a few seconds, the only sound was my ragged breathing. The thermometer beeped with the telltale sound to indicate fever. Not that I had expected anything else. “Can you tell me where the pain is located?”
The moment he asked, the truth hit. Appendicitis. I had appendicitis. “On the right side, low.” I swallowed again. “It’s appendicitis, isn’t it?”
He gave me a gentle smile. “Let me finish the examination, okay? I’m going to touch your abdomen. This may be painful, but it’s necessary.”
He started on the left side, which was uncomfortable but not excruciating, but the second he touched my right lower abdomen, I all but bounced off the bed, crying out.
